


We're Human After All

by headfirstfrhalos



Category: Twenty One Pilots
Genre: Ableism, Alternate Universe - Future, Alternate Universe - Robots & Androids, Autism, Existential Angst, Other, Robot Feels, Robot/Human Relationships, Slow Burn
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-08-09
Updated: 2018-04-08
Packaged: 2018-12-03 12:58:23
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 20
Words: 48,946
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11532717
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/headfirstfrhalos/pseuds/headfirstfrhalos
Summary: The thing about machines is that they did unwanted jobs: bagging groceries, assembling cars, and sweeping floors. Things no one had the time or energy for in such a busy world.That was why Tyler hated the robot. He didn't need an assistant. He wasn't an unwanted job. He was normal.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Hey y'all, it's me, and this is my latest disaster. I finished writing this a few months ago so it'll update on a regular schedule. Every Wednesday! Hope you guys like it.

The thing about machines is that they did unwanted jobs: bagging groceries, assembling cars, and sweeping floors. Things no one had the time or energy for in such a busy world. That was why Tyler hated the robot. Most of them didn't have faces. This one did. It was far from perfect-- like all other Josh models, it almost looked as if its designer had chosen its features at random. Not that its face was unpleasing to look at. It had big, lidded eyes and a small mouth. It had a strong nose and a hint of stubble lining its defined jaw. Its hair was curly and dark, synthetic but not plastic and shiny. It looked like anyone, someone you might pass on the street and never give a second look. Made to assimilate. Made to hide shame.

But he didn't need an assistant. He wasn't an unwanted job. He was normal.

But then he looked around his apartment, at the refuse and the dirty laundry and the dead houseplants on the windowsill and the way his coworkers frowned at him and realized that his mother was right.

"Just pretend he's a roommate," she said as she drove him back to his apartment. The robot sat in the back seat, fresh from the hospital, staring out the window like it was curious. Tyler kept glancing back at it through the rearview mirror, unnerved.

Assistants weren't supposed to be called 'its', since that would defeat the purpose of all those millions poured into developing realistic skin and hair that could grow back when cut. But Tyler refused to lie; not to himself or to anyone around him. 'Joshua' was an _it_ , a machine. Not a roommate, not a friend, not a human.

"Hmm," he hummed, turning to face away from her.

"Please, Tyler. This is going to be good for you. You can finally have a normal life now."

Tyler didn't want to be abnormal. He chewed the inside of his cheek.

"And a robot is supposed to help?" 

"Yes, Tyler."

They stopped at a light. Advertisements were projected onto their windshield as they waited for the light to turn green. Tyler closed his eyes. The ads were so bright, stabbing past his eyelids and making his eyes water. He covered them with his hands, and his mother reached over to tug them away. He rested them on his lap and forced himself to look into the lights.

The robot, on the other hand, seemed entranced by the flashing colors. It leaned forward, straining against the seatbelt, chin resting on the center console as it watched an ad for toothpaste. His mother chuckled, amused. Tyler cracked open one eye to look at it. It wore a silent expression of wonder that that looked so real, down to the little creases around its mouth and under its eyes where wrinkles would never form. It didn't blink.

It didn't say a word during the entire trip. If Tyler closed his eyes, he could pretend it wasn't there.

Tyler didn't hold the door behind him when he entered his apartment, and the robot scrambled to catch the door. It gently closed and locked the door behind it, as responsible and forgiving as it was created to be.

Now they were alone: the robot in the foyer and Tyler in the kitchen, staring each other down, silent. It looked around his apartment, silently determining what needed to be picked up or dusted or rearranged. Judging him.

"Stop it," he said, and he could hear the machinery in its neck working as the robot turned to look at him.

"Does looking at your home bother you?" it asked. Its voice did not sound tinny and prerecorded like older robots. This one had lungs, pulling double duty as a cooling system and for generating more organic-sounding speech. Frankly, the sound of its breathing freaked him out.

"Yes. Don't look at my stuff," Tyler said.

"I can clean your apartment," it insisted.

" _Don't_."

The robot paused when it heard his tone, as if it had been hurt.

"Alright," it said, gentler. "We can do that later. But be careful in the meanwhile."

They were quiet again. Tyler could hear the slight whirr of the bellows in its chest working. Tyler wondered if there was a way to turn them off. 

"So tell me about yourself, Tyler."

"I can play the piano, and I like poetry."

"Do you have a job?"

"I work in tech support in an office."

Tyler could see it pausing as it tried to figure out what to say next. He knew he wasn't easy to talk to, and it gave him some satisfaction to see its algorithms hard at work trying to figure him out. 

"Do you like your job?"

"It makes money, and it's something to do."

It pondered his philosophy and its face lit up with the small pleasure of understanding something new. Tyler wondered if the robot was connected to the hospital, beaming back his progress in real-time for the doctors to make into a chart and show to his mother so that she wouldn't have to worry about her son.  _See? He'll be just fine. He won't be an invalid anymore._

Tyler approached the robot. There had to be an off switch somewhere. It didn't shrink away like a person would when he got into their personal space. Tyler felt its skin, silky and warm like a person's, the fine hairs raising when he brushed his fingers over the fake skin.

"What are you doing?" it asked.

He didn't answer it and continued invading its space, running his hand through its soft, cool hair and not caring if he ruined its neat curls. He couldn't feel any switch or battery cover on its arms or legs, and he didn't want to take its clothes off. Oh well. He'd just put it in the bathroom or something if it got too annoying. 

"Are you hungry?" it asked as Tyler gave up his pawing.

"I think. Can you make something for me?"

He actually wasn't , but saying yes was the easiest way to get the robot to leave him alone. If he could occupy it with attempting to cook a meal out of his meager scraps in the kitchen, he could have some time to himself, something he knew he would have little of for a very long time.

"Of course."

It brushed past him to look at the fridge, scanning the cold shelves for anything it could prepare. Tyler left to go to his room and play his piano. The trip to the hospital had been particularly stressful, and music was the perfect way to unwind.

He didn't own a real piano. No one had the room or money for them anymore. It was a silver, plastic, eighty-eight key model with a MIDI file reader and seventeen different preprogrammed instruments. He had owned it for nearly five years now, and he still treasured it like it was brand new. It was situated on its metal stand in front of the large, single window in his room that overlooked the entire city from his position on the fiftieth floor. 

He turned on the piano and put on his headphones (musical instruments were banned in his building if they couldn't be silenced), wincing when he realized he had left the volume on high when he last turned it off. He turned it down, and began to recite all the songs he had learned over the years-- some original, and some copied from what he heard on his radio.

The radio. Many days it felt like that little white box on his desk was his only connection to the rest of the world. People always lied to each other, whether they were online, writing letters, or speaking face to face. Only when they sang did they tell the truth. It transfixed him. It was why he dropped out of college before he got his master's. A bachelor's was only enough to get him a lowly job as an IT, but he didn't care. He had music. Finally, he could begin to understand other people's emotions. 

His headphones drowned out the sound of the robot working in the kitchen, though he couldn't avoid the smell of vegetables in hot oil. He pretended it was his mother, even though she only ever came on Saturday afternoons, not Sunday evenings.

The robot knocked on his door a few minutes later.

"Dinner's ready," it said.

There was a single plate of stir-fried vegetables and a scoop of instant mashed potatoes on the dining table. The robot was sitting in the other chair across the table, the one his mother usually occupied when she visited. It had no plate of its own, and sat with its hands folded on the table, quietly expectant. It watched him as he ate, and Tyler shut his eyes to block out the sight of it carefully observing the motions of his jaw.

"Thanks," Tyler said begrudgingly, because that was supposed to come after someone did something nice for you. 

"It's simply my job," it said, but there was a hint of pride in those words.

The food wasn't bad. It was definitely much better than what he usually ate. Still, the vegetables were a little soggy (his fault, they had been sitting in the fridge for nearly two weeks now) and he tried his best to ignore the texture.

"Is something wrong?" it asked. In the silence, he could hear the slight mechanical buzz of the robot tilting its head.

"No," Tyler said. "It's the texture."

"The vegetables were a bit old," it said, conversational. "We can go out to the markets tomorrow, if you want."

"I can't," Tyler said, forking a sliced carrot, "I have to go to work tomorrow."

"When do you normally go to the grocery store, then?"

"Uh."

He didn't go shopping on his own. It was his mother who went and visited him weekly to make him buy groceries he wouldn't use.

"I'll assume that's a 'no'."

Tyler nodded. "I know I have to go. But I don't want to."

"I can go with you, if going alone makes you nervous."

Little by little, Tyler could see what its programming was designed to assist. 

"I guess," he said. "I have to, anyways. You won't stop bothering me until I do."

"I don't want to bother you, Tyler. I want to help you. It was what I was made to do."

He knew the thing didn't have any real emotions, but he felt a small twinge of guilt when he heard disappointment in its voice. 

"I know. But don't take it personally. My mom bothers me too."

He didn't intend for it to be a joke, but the robot laughed. Its smooth, pink lips stretched into a smile, and he could see its shoulders shaking as if it were breathing and the faint whirring of its fans stopping and starting erratically. Its teeth were white and perfect and entirely lacked the wet glisten of saliva. Once again Tyler was quietly, terrifyingly reminded that the entity across from him was not _Josh_ , but _It_.

Tyler washed his dish after he finished. That was the deal it had made with him just as he finished: _I'll cook if you wash the dishes. It's a good habit to make._

Sometimes it sounded like his mother. He didn't want it to be his mother, though.

It watched him get his clothes ready for the next morning: a light blue dress shirt, his kimono, and black jeans. Being a low-ranking worker meant he could dress more comfortably than the accountants and engineers. He hated the way long-sleeved shirts felt on his wrists-- itchy and tight-- but his boss was already being lenient by letting him wear his favorite kimono, the soft one with the roses on it, so he swallowed his discomfort down and filled his wardrobe with clothes he hated.

He tossed his dirty clothes in the hamper instead of folding them over the chair in his bedroom like he normally did, not because the robot said anything, but because he knew it would if he didn't. 

The sun was long gone by the time Tyler was ready for bed, but all the lights in the city were bright enough to make up for it. He shut his thin and gauzy curtains, which let in much more light than the heavy blackouts his neighbors preferred. Tyler didn't want to admit it, but he was still a little afraid of the dark.

The robot's nightly routine was a little easier than Tyler's. It washed its hands, rinsed out its mouth, and brushed its hair, black curls springing back into synthetic perfection. Tyler was a little jealous of how convenient it was. 

It kept its charger in a fanny pack. He didn't notice that it had one until it pulled the pack out from underneath its loose grey sweater. Tyler would have laughed if he wasn't so intrigued and disturbed by the sight of the machine peeling back the skin in its left wrist, revealing the small charging port set beneath the artificial flesh. It leaned against the wall and slowly slid down against it until it was on the floor, legs crossed, sighing as the energy from the wall flowed into its opened wrist.

"Goodnight, Tyler."

Its head lowered and it became very still. The sound of its breathing diminished until it was nothing but a soft hum. He thought he could ignore it at first, but he became incredibly aware of the sound as he lay awake on his bed, staring at its unconscious form on the floor. There was light from the window, and there was enough to make the robot's sleeping form seem like something more malicious than what it already was. 

_Whirr. Whirr. Whirr._

Tyler shuddered and got out of bed, turning on the light and flooding the room with safe, golden light. The robot mumbled something and slowly lifted its head. 

"Hello, Tyler--" it started, circuits misfiring with drowsiness.

"Could you get into the closet?" Tyler asked. "Your breathing is freaking me out."

Confusion momentarily crossed its face before it obeyed and got up, detaching the charger from the outlet and tottering off into the nearly barren walk-in (he didn't own many clothes). It found the outlet next to the squat metal safe and plugged itself back in. 

"Goodnight again, Tyler," it said in the same voice it did when it first went to sleep. It shut down again, slumping against the wall and curling up.

"Goodnight," he grumbled, shutting the door. He couldn't hear its breathing now. Good.

Tyler settled back into bed, dreading sleep because it would bring the next day about faster. Monday-- and every day after that-- was going to be harder than normal with that robot by his side.  

He squeezed back the burn in his eyes when he thought of what everyone else at the office would say.

He should lock that robot in the house before he left for work so it had no chance of following him anywhere.


	2. Chapter 2

Of course the robot woke up before he could try and lock it in. It stood at the foot of his bed, fingers curled over the rail.

"Hello, Tyler. I'm here to help. It's seven o' clock."

Tyler rolled over and squeezed his eyes shut. "Ugh. I wake up at seven-thirty."

"My mistake. Go back to sleep then, I'll wake you up later. I'll try to remember this the next time."

It shuffled away towards the living room, silent in its white-socked feet. Tyler was still tired, but he didn't trust that thing being awake while he wasn't. He got up, rubbing his eyes. Thirty minutes wouldn't make much difference when it came to rush hour, but maybe he'd be less groggy sooner.

There was coffee waiting on the table when he finished putting on his clothes. The robot must have found the box of instant coffee the day before.

"Thanks," Tyler said, because that was supposed to come after someone doing something nice for you.

The coffee was bitter without cream or sugar to weaken it, but it didn't matter. He swallowed it down and took his keys, phone, and wallet, and bus card.

"Do you really have to come with me?" Tyler asked as he slipped into his shoes.

"Yes," it said, pulling on his standard uniform shoe. Tyler slipped on his own boots and went out the door, the robot following close behind.

The subway was crowded, like it always was. Tyler waited nearly twenty minutes in line to reload his card. The turnstiles let it through without paying. Robots rode free.

Tyler paced back and forth across the platform, passing vending machines, people, advertisements, and other things. The machine followed him, still amazed by the novelties of the outside world. At least it wasn't anxious like he was. That coffee was a bad idea. It was loud, smelly, and crowded in here, and the caffeine only made him more aware of these things. He brushed too many shoulders and the ends of his kimono caught on passerby squeezing past him, the contact made his skin crawl. The train to another part of town arrived, and the ensuing flood of people rushing to and from it made his breath catch in his throat. He resisted the urge to pull his hair and wring out his arms to relieve the stress. He didn't want people to stare.

He hated this.

"Are you alright?"

It was the robot. It stood by his side, resting a hand on his shoulder.

"No," he said. "I'm anxious."

"I can tell. Your heart rate is up."

It squeezed his shoulder. That wasn't done out of comfort-- it was collecting data on him. The unwanted contact made his innards feel like they were heaving. He quickly brushed its hand off of him.

"Don't touch me,” he said, swatting the hand away.

"You don't like human contact?"

"You're not human."

"I can't deny that. Still, do you want to hold my hand? It helps reduce anxiety."

Tyler sighed. This thing didn't know how to give up.

"Fine."

Hands were easier to touch than shoulders or other parts of the body. Tyler folded his hand into its own. It was warm like a person's. The texture was similar to an organic hand too, dry and smooth. If he focused on these things and ignored its lack of fingerprints and veins, he could pretend it was a person. He took a deep breath and closed his eyes, absorbing the metallic stench of the underground and shielding his eyes from the bright fluorescent lights.

The train came. They were still holding hands. The constant pressure of the robot’s hand was oddly comforting as his lungs were crushed by the tightly-packed mass of people stuffed in the train car. He hated to admit it, but the robot was right.

Tyler let go of its hand when they surfaced fifteen stops later. Downtown was even more crowded than his neighborhood, but the streets were wide and the cool wind whistled between the enormous towers. 

"Do you feel better now?" it asked.

"Yeah. You don't need to hold my hand anymore."

The building Tyler worked in was far from the tallest in the city. It was only seventy stories tall, the twenty-first century architecture outdated and unfashionable. The cubic, glass-covered tower reflected all the light from the sun and burned his eyes. He slipped in through the revolving door, the robot following close behind.

He worked on the eleventh floor. His cubicle was deep inside the building, so he had no view of the outside. Not that there was much to see from the eleventh floor. He spent most of his day sitting at his desk, waiting for calls from people around the building needing help with their computers. There were twenty other people in his department, which meant he spent much of his day idling.

The hospital had notified his boss of his assistant’s arrival. She gave him a pitying look as she walked by the second seat placed behind his desk, and Tyler wanted to scream. Despite his early start, he was one of the last ones to arrive today, and everyone else stared at him from their cubicles as he and the robot took their seats. The robot seemed unaffected by their glances, watching Tyler log onto his computer and test his phone to make sure it was functional.

“Hey, Tyler.”

Taking his seat at Tyler’s right was Brendon, his coworker of three and a half years. His seat was the very last to be filled, as usual.

“Hi, Brendon,” Tyler said, logging in.

“Who’s this guy?” he asked, pointing at the robot.

“I’m Josh,” the robot said, reaching across Tyler to shake Brendon’s hand. “It’s nice to meet you.”

“I’m Brendon. So, why are you here—“

That was when he realized why Josh was there. He squeezed the robot’s hand, and felt the synthetic material of its hand. That was when he realized what Josh was.

“Oh,” he said, drawing his hand back. Josh seemed concerned.

“I’m here to help Tyler for the time being. I won’t get in the way," it promised.

“I’m sure you won’t,” Brendon said, backtracking. “I was just a little surprised. I wasn’t expecting it.”

Brendon turned to Tyler. “You never told me you needed one.”

“Why would I want to tell you that?” Tyler asked.

Brendon was hurt. “Damn. I just meant—“

“Oh, sorry. I didn’t mean to hurt your feelings,” he said. “I meant that it was something I didn’t want to share. Everybody knows now, but.”

He shrugged. Brendon nodded.

“I get what you mean, man,” he said, patting Tyler on the shoulder a little too hard. “I know how you are. Hope you get well soon.”

Tyler _couldn't_ get well soon, but he understood the sentiment. He was his only friend, aside from his mother, and therefore he needed to keep him.

“Thanks,” he said. “I will.”

Tyler turned back to his own work. There was a short list of miscellaneous tasks he had to look over before the day was over. He might as well get them done now, before everyone on the upper levels finished their coffee and started up their computers.

He sorted through the network’s daily cybersecurity reports. He watched the robot out of the corner of his eye as he worked. It was toying with the hem of its grey sweater, looking down, almost shy. Tyler wondered if was capable of simulating such an emotion.

He got a phone call after an hour.

“Hello? IT department.”

“Hi, I can’t seem to get my printer to work.”

Oh no. Tyler could tell this was going to be tricky.

“Have you tried turning it on and—“

“Of course I have.”

“Is there enough ink and paper? Is it connected to the internet or your computer? Is it—“

“Listen, kid, don’t talk to me like I’m stupid. I manage the entire technology sector of this building. I’ve tried everything, so why don’t you come up to the thirty-second floor, room 251, and actually help me? All you techs do anyways is just sit at your chairs and gossip.”

The line went dead. Tyler slowly put the phone down, biting his lip. This guy seemed mad for absolutely no reason. He asked the same questions to everyone who had problems with their printers. He didn't think he was stupid. He had managed to become the head of the tech department, after all, much better than what he had done. He hated helping people like this.

“Are you alright?” the robot asked. “You seem upset.”

“Dude, you look like a kicked puppy,” Brendon said, leaning over from his cubicle. “Did you get an asshole?”

Tyler nodded, responding to both of them. “Yeah.”

He got up, breathing in deep. “I gotta go help them now. Their printer isn’t-- it's not working, and apparently they’ve tried everything. They probably just unplugged something. I'll be back soon."

“Good luck,” Brendon said.

The robot followed him as he entered left the eleventh floor and rocketed towards the thirty-second. His stomach swooped at the velocity and the sight of the ground shrinking through the glass elevator. It arrived with a pleasant ding! and revealed the thirty-second floor.

Room 249, 250, 251. The wooden door was closed and the blinds were drawn. Tyler grabbed the robot’s hand again. He couldn’t help it. He was terrified of the high-ranking workers, especially the ones like this. He knocked on the door, and entered when he heard no reply.

An older man was standing in front of the printer on his desk, fiddling with the plastic hull.

"Finally," he huffed, "So here's the--"

He saw the robot.

"Who’s this?" he asked, gesturing at the robot.

"Josh, leave," Tyler whispered.

"I only asked for one person, unless that's a--"

"I'm Josh, Tyler's assistant," the robot said, oblivious. "I help him handle his day-to-day life. I won't get in the way."

Shit. Tyler did not expect this person to take such information graciously. The man looked from Josh to Tyler, arms crossed with one eyebrow raised. Tyler was panicking now, he could feel his chest tightening and heat rising to his cheeks.

“Yeah. I can tell you really need one,” he said. “Now go--”

“Sir, sir, please, I can help you—“

“Let me speak. Go back down and send a competent worker, one who doesn't need a nanny, doesn’t interrupt me, and follows the dress code. You ought to be fired. Or at least demoted to a janitor. You’re an embarrassment to this company.”

Tyler managed to turn around before his tears spilled from his eyes. He hated himself for being so sensitive. He could hear the man click his tongue and order the robot to get him out of his office. The robot hovered an arm around his shoulders and gently steered him out. Tyler could feel the warmth of its arm in the air between them, and he was grateful that it remembered not to touch him. Small things.

“Excuse me, do you know where the nearest restroom is?” it asked.

“Uh… it’s at the end of the hall,” a confused employee answered.

“Thank you. Have a good day.”

It led him down the hall. Tyler kept his eyes closed because he didn’t want to face all the other workers staring at him as he cried.

The bathroom was blissfully empty. Tyler grabbed some paper towels from the dispenser and wiped the tears from his face, coarse material scraping against his skin. He looked at himself in the mirror. His face was red and blotchy. The robot was watching him from the back of the bathroom, watching out for anyone that might want to come in.

“Are you okay?” it asked as Tyler washed his face.

“Yeah, yeah. This-- this happens a lot, don’t worry,” Tyler said. He took a deep breath.

“That shouldn’t be something that happens often.”

“I know. But I-- can’t help it,” Tyler said, trying to even out his breath.

“Were you lying when you said you were okay with working here?”

“No. I don’t lie. It pays better than most places. So I’m okay with it.”

“You care about money?”

“I mean, I need to eat.”

Tyler straightened out his kimono. It had started to slip off his shoulders while he was crying. He was going to be okay now. He could move on.

“That’s not what I mean. Do you value money and luxury?”

“Not at all.”

Tyler blew his nose one last time.

“I see. Is this workplace a source of stress for you?”

“Kinda, yeah. A lot, actually. But everyone’s job is stressful.”

“Is there anything I can do to minimize that?”

“No.”

“I’m sure there’s something, Tyler. I want to help you.”

“You’re not a human," he said as he washed his hands.

“I know I’m not. What does that matter?”

“Everything. You don’t actually feel bad for me. You don’t actually care. You’re just made to look like you do.”

“Do I do a good job? I seem to have convinced you back on the subway.”

“Yes, you do. Sometimes I can pretend that you’re actually a person.”

“Do you want to pretend again?”

Tyler thought for a moment, worrying the paper towel between his fingers.

“Yeah, actually,” he said.

He turned around to hug Josh (he realized he shouldn’t call it an ‘it’ if he was going to pretend). Like his hands, everything about him felt plainly human. He turned his head and buried his face in the crook of his neck, the soft material of his sweater brushing against his cheek. Josh didn’t smell like anything except fabric softener and clean silicone. His arms, wrapped around Tyler, were much stronger than he had expected, and he could feel his polymer muscles through the thick material of the sleeves. He could feel the small puffs of too-cool air that Josh breathed onto his back and hear the faint whirr of his fans pushing air in and out, and it bothered him, but everything else wasn't half bad.

“There. Do you feel better?” he asked.

“A little, yeah.”

“Is there anything else I can do to be more real?”

“Don’t talk so formally. You sound like a butler.”

“Oh. Alright then. ‘Sup, dude?”

Tyler snorted. “That’s better.”

* * *

“Hey, Tyler, what happened? We had to send Hayley up when the guy called again. He's a real jerk. I think she’s still traumatized from that.”

“That guy was an asshole. He kicked me out when he saw Josh.”

“Wow. Hey, you, uh, your face is a little—“

Brendon gestured at his face. Tyler nodded.

“I know. It was bad.”

“Sucks. How about we go for drinks on Friday night to make up for that? I’d like to go earlier in the week, Wednesday would be good, and I know going out isn’t really your thing, but I’ve got plans for the week and I want you to feel a little better. How does that sound?”

Tyler was hesitant. Brendon has asked him to drink with him before, and he always declined for many good reasons.

“You should go, Tyler,” the robot said. “I’ll come with you if that makes you feel any better.”

He wasn’t sure if it could, but he knew he wouldn’t be able to win an argument against two of them.

“Alright, then,” he said. “I’ll go.”

“Yes!” Brendon pumped a fist in the air, attracting irritated stares from several of their coworkers. “For the first time in three and a half years, Tyler Joseph has finally accepted my invitation to go out for drinks!”

Tyler fingered the material of his kimono. This was a mistake.


	3. Chapter 3

It was Wednesday evening when the robot began to inspect the books on Tyler’s shelf. Most of them were vestiges of his childhood, read over and over again until the pages were soft and lined with old creases. He read at an incredible speed, turning the pages so quickly Tyler worried that he would tear the pages.

“'Salutations, it’s my fancy way of saying ‘hello’',” he read aloud.

He swooped down and snatched the book out of the robot’s hands.

“Hello, Tyler,” it said.

“Don’t touch my books.”

“I’m sorry. I didn't know they were off-limits.”

“I’ve had them since I was a little kid. I don’t want anyone touching them.”

He knew that made him sound like a jerk, but he didn’t care.

“You love these things?”

“’Love’ isn’t a word you use for things,” Tyler said. “You like things, but you love people.”

It nodded. It seemed to have forgotten about the book now. “Do you love anyone, Tyler? I know about the things you like, but you’ve never told me who you love.”

Tyler shrugged as he put the book back on the shelf. He’d have to move those into a box later so it wouldn’t get into them again. “My mom. My brothers and sisters, and my mom. That's about it, really."

“Not Brendon?”

“He’s too loud for me.”

“He seems nice enough.”

“He is nice. That doesn’t mean I have to like him, though.”

“That’s true. Is there anyone else? Are you dating anyone?”

“No. I don’t have the energy. Or the social skills.”

“Oh.”

The robot rested its head in its hands and stared at the wall from its place on the sofa. It was moments like these where it seemed especially human, when he almost called it ‘Josh’. There was always something that stopped him, though, like how its breathing in quiet moments revealed the mechanical hum of its fans that Tyler hated so much.

He turned away from the living room to go play the piano. Maybe it would help clear his mind. He had been feeling muddled recently ever since the robot arrived at his house and turned his life upside down. He just wanted things to go back to the way they were before.

He turned on his radio, tuning it to the local pop station. The tunes there were always easy to follow. The fact that the lyrics often meant little made it easy for him to adapt the  
words to his own purposes. He turned on his piano and followed the song about a girlfriend’s green eyes and red lips and blue veins and ignored the sound of the robot reading _The Velveteen Rabbit_ aloud in his living room not five minutes after he told it not to touch his books. Maybe it was glitching.

A thousand different emotions he couldn’t name churned inside him: a week of resentment and frustration coming to a head.

He couldn’t take it anymore. Stupid song. Stupid robot. Stupid story. He slammed his hands down onto the keys, creating an ugly cacophony, and he hit the keys again and again, letting out a wordless yell of frustration. It’s been less than a week and already he was going crazy. He didn’t care how much the robot helped him calm down or how friendly it seemed, he just couldn’t stand the idea that he was helpless without one.

“Tyler?” the robot called, suddenly right behind the door. “Are you okay?”

“Yes, I’m fine!” he shouted, throwing his headphones from off his ears and scraping his fingers over his shaved hair.

He did wish that someone was there to listen to him and understand. Loneliness was common, especially amongst the young, but unlike most others, he never paid for hotlines or rented afternoon companions to assuage the feeling. He curled over, nails digging deeper into his head, trying to force his breathing back into a normal rhythm. The pain was grounding and brought tears to his eyes.

“Do you need to talk to someone?” the robot asked, and Tyler jumped until he realized that the voice was from the robot, not his mother coming to discipline him for having another tantrum.

“Leave me alone.”

There was silence on the other side. He released his hands from his head and saw traces of blood beneath his nails. His scalp stung. He sighed. The scabs from the last time had disappeared only days ago, and now there were more open wounds.

He opened the door. It was standing right behind the door, two inches from his face. Tyler startled and leaped back.

“Jesus,” he muttered as he recovered. He left the robot behind to sit on the bed.

“Sorry for scaring you, Tyler,” it said, watching as Tyler sat down.

“Whatever."

The robot was quiet for a moment, and Tyler again wondered if its feelings were hurt. He wondered if that was important.

“Tyler,” it began, still in the doorway. “You’re upset. Why?'

“It’s you,” he said, staring at his feet.

“What is it about me that makes you unhappy?”

“I already told you. You’re not real. And you breathing freaks me out.”

“I don’t think it’s just that. Do you want to keep talking about it?”

There it went again, trying to help him. Its head tilted with fabricated concern.

“No, I don’t. We’ve been over this before. You’re not real and therefore can’t actually care about me, so this conversation means nothing.”

He got up from the bed and went to close the door.

“I think—“ it protested.

“You don’t think!”

Tyler slammed the door. He flopped onto his bed and pulled his phone from his pocket. He wanted to talk to someone real.  
 

_Mom_

Sent by Tyler at 8:54 PM

 

_Yes?_

Sent by Mom at 8:55 PM

   
_I can’t stand this thing in my house_

Sent by Tyler at 8:55 PM  
 

_What’s wrong?_

Sent by Mom at 8:55 PM  
 

_This is just ridiculous. It's so pointless, it's not helping me or making me feel any better. I just want it gone._

Sent by Tyler at 8:56 PM

 

_Would you be happier if it was?_

_…_

_Exactly_

Sent by Mom at 8:58 PM

 

_Mom you know what I mean_

_It’s not real and there’s no point. I’m doing worse with it around than I was without. Can we please take it back to the hospital?_

Sent by Tyler at 8:58 PM

 

_No. We're both too old for me to control you. He’ll do you good if you let him. That’s what he was made for._

Sent by Mom at 8:59 PM  


_Okay_

Sent by Tyler at 9:00 PM

  
   
It actually wasn’t okay, but he knew that trying to convince his mother of anything was impossible. Her stance was more for her sake than for his. Having a son that needed a assistant was shameful, but not as much as denying that he needed one. Demonstrating progress was better.

The robot knocked on his door again. It just didn’t know when to give up.

“ _What_ ," he said through the door.

“These outbursts you’re having aren’t healthy. I know you’re upset, but you can’t take out your frustration on me, or other people. We can find other way to vent your frustration.”

Tyler was quiet for a moment, trying to find something to say that would interest the robot and not get them in another argument. The robot was incredibly forgiving, and he was going to use that to their advantage. He got up and opened the door.

“How about we make a deal?” he asked.

The robot seemed interested. “What kind of deal?”

“If you stop being so overbearing all the time, I’ll be nicer. I won’t call you ‘it’, if it makes you happier.”

“That would make me happy, Tyler. But what do you mean by being less overbearing? I’m supposed to take care of you, and I think that includes being a little annoying sometimes.”

“I mean constantly asking to talk to me and hug me and stuff. I don’t know who programmed you, but I like hugs a lot less than these people must think I do.”

“When do you want to be hugged?”

“I don’t know,” Tyler said. “I’ll come up to you first if I need one. And don't second-guess me when I say I can handle something. I know my limits.”

“Alright. You don't feel ashamed asking for help?”

"I do, but I'll do it if you uphold your end of the deal."

"Okay."

There was a beat of silence.

“Do you want something else?” Tyler asked. “You’re just standing there.”

“Yes. May I keep reading? I want to keep learning.”

“Not my books,” Tyler said. “That's personal. I have a computer. Use that one. There’s an online library.”

“Thanks, Tyler.”

“Yeah.”

The robot eagerly shuffled off to the laptop Tyler kept in the living room. He hoped that giving it access to the internet wasn’t a mistake.

It had finished a digital copy of _The Velveteen Rabbit_ by the time Tyler was in his pajamas. It was wearing the expression it had when it first came to Tyler’s home, a small, dry-mouthed smile that hinted at amazement. Unlike the first day, however, it seemed entirely willing to talk about what it saw.

“And then the Skin Horse said to the rabbit that he could become Real,” it said to Tyler as he settled into bed.

“He did. He said that if he was loved enough, he’d become Real.”

“I still don’t understand what they mean,” it said, rolling back the skin of its arm. “The rabbit was able to think before he became Real.”

“The rabbit is like you,” Tyler said. “You can think and process things, right?”

“Yes.”

“But are you Real?”

“I’m not sure.”

“You aren’t, Josh.”

“Oh. I thought that maybe I was wrong, after reading that.”

“It’s just a book. I like it a lot, but it’s fiction. It’s not real or Real.”

“I know what fiction is. I just thought it would be nice, being Real. I don’t know if being Real is any different from being just existing, though.”

Reading seemed to have instilled a stubborn curiosity about it. It was a step away from its bland, polite character, but it worried him that its personality was able to evolve so quickly.

“Well, I don't know what it feels like. I've always been Real," Tyler said.

Josh tilted his head. "Are you sure?"

That question took him by surprise. Of course he’s always been Real. He was a human being. But then again, what did that mean? People were just organic computers. Being Real meant having been loved until every depth of emotion could be understood. His mother loved him, but to what end? Sometimes he felt absolutely nothing, for days or even weeks at a time.

Was he really Real?

“No,” Tyler finally said, heart sinking. “No, I’m not sure. I think I do know what it's like. It feels like... absolutely nothing, sometimes, right?”

"Yes."


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> sorry this chapter was a day late! i was so busy with college that i forgot to post the new update!

The realization haunted him for the entire week. He was still thinking about it by Friday evening.

He dressed in his good clothes, the outfit Brendon always said made him look like Johnny Cash—a black dress shirt and a yellow blazer, and the bolo tie his father got him as a joke that he loved. He only remembered because Josh had told him that today was the day he agreed to go to the bar with Brendon. (He stopped calling Josh ‘the robot’-- he realized he didn't have the authority to call him that if he was hardly any Realer.)

Brendon noticed that Tyler seemed off while they rode in the taxi to Brendon’s bar of choice.

“Hey, man, you feeling alright? You got dressed up, and you’re here, which is great, but if you really don’t feel like going—“

“I do,” Tyler said. “I just had a weird couple of days with this guy.”

He gestured to Josh, who was sitting in the left seat and entertaining himself with an old tablet Tyler had found yesterday at a thrift store. He was connected to the citywide, public internet, and had spent the last three hours on Wikipedia.

“What happened?”

“He likes _The Velveteen Rabbit_ ,” he said. “And then that lead to a whole discussion on being real, and what it was that made someone or something real. And I decided that I wasn’t much realer than him. Because being real meant that you could, you know, really feel, and I thought about it to myself and realized that I didn't always feel like that, so I couldn't be real.”

“Uh-huh.”

Tyler realized he must have lost Brendon somewhere around the word ‘rabbit’ as they turned a corner.

“Like I said, it was weird.”

“I can tell. Well, tonight’s not gonna be weird. It’s just gonna be drinking and music and a plain old good time. I believe that life should be lived as simply as possible.”

_God, I wish I could live like you._

“Can Josh drink, by the way? He’s a… a robot,” he said, lowering his voice at the word ‘robot’, as if the mechanical taxi driver could hear or care.

“Socially,” Josh said. “I don't absorb nutrients. It just comes out later.”

“What, through where? Wait, do you have a--“

“I’m not like those ones in the videos,” Josh said. “I don’t have anything down there. I’d have to have one installed, but the hospital doesn’t allow sexual relations with patients anyways.”

“Oh. Well, the more you know, I guess.”

Tyler absently wondered what Josh was looking at other than Wikipedia as the taxi came to a halt.

"We're here!"

Calling the establishment a bar was a bit of an understatement. It was a bustling nightclub, painted white with colorful lights bursting through the cracks. People streamed in and out, even at so early an hour. He could feel the music thumping in the sidewalk. Brendon had lied to him.

"You said it was a bar," Tyler said as Brendon entered.

"If they serve alcohol, it's a bar."

"You know I don't like these kinds of places!"

He had to shout now that they were inside.

"I know you don't, but it's good for you, man. You need to get out every once in a while. Who knows, you might actually like it!"

Tyler was pretty sure he wouldn't. This was what hell probably looked like. People on all sides, bright lights flashing, and deafening music. He covered his ears to shield himself against the sound. Josh pulled some sunglasses out of his fanny pack and handed them to Tyler. He had no idea how he fit so much in there, but he accepted them gratefully and shielded his eyes against the swooping lights.

"Can we at least go somewhere quieter? My ears are hurting."

"Sure thing," Brendon said, walking up to the crowded bar. "Lemme just order some drinks first. What do you want?"

Tyler looked up at the near-incomprehensible menu. He hated the bitter taste of alcohol and the dizziness drunkenness brought him, but he knew Brendon wouldn't accept water for an answer.

"I'll have... a screwdriver."

He had no idea what that was, but hopefully it wouldn't be too bad.

"Sounds great. There's some lounge rooms around here, number fifty-five is usually empty. See you there. The waitresses'll find you."

He and Josh turned away from the dance floor into a wide hallway. The entire club reminded him of an egg, with white, rounded corners that let sound and light bounce from its surfaces and cast strange colors on Josh's face. He navigated the chaotic scene coolly, unaffected by all the heat and sound.

"May I hold your hand, Tyler? I know I ask a lot, but it helps you."

At least he had gotten better at asking.

"Yeah. Not now, though. It's still too loud."

They had passed the first dozen lounges, open entrances revealing guests resting on round seats and drinking colorful liquids from tiny shot glasses, served on shiny metal trays by white-hulled gynoids. The music still shook the walls, and the bright white lights set into the walls and ceiling competed with the colors of the dance hall.

"Do you think the lounges are soundproofed?" Josh asked.

"Not all the way. This place sucks."

His tie bounced in a steady, light rhythm against his chest as he walked.

Lounge fifty-five was empty as Brendon had promised. It was much quieter here, though Tyler could still feel the bass shaking the floors. It was muted enough that he felt a little more comfortable.

"Ugh."

He slumped into a round seat, staring up at the ceiling, observing the details of a light bulb through Josh's dark glasses. Josh sat next to him, running his fingers over the soft fake leather of the seat.

"Are you feeling okay?" he asked him.

"Stressed. Fridays are the worst."

"Most people seem to like them."

Tyler closed his eyes. "I know they do. They're just too noisy for me is all. It gets painful."

"Do you still want to hold my hand?"

"No."

"Oh, alright then."

He took out his tablet from under the crook of his arm and powered it on. Tyler tilted his head to look at what he was doing. He was reading about fungi. His eyes didn't move or blink when he read.

Tyler sighed. He just wanted to be at home, in bed, listening to the radio or watching TV, knowing he could stay up late because he had Saturday off. Instead, he was _here_.

Brendon appeared a few minutes later.

"Oh, you guys are here. Good thing you didn't get lost."

The waitress tailed Brendon with their drinks. Her black joints whirred beneath the white plates of her curvy carapace.

"Here you go, one appletini for you, and a screwdriver for you."

Her voice was saccharine, a caricature of femininity as she waited for Brendon to pay, sliding his card through the scanner in her wrist. She had no face, just a white, smooth surface with the vague contours if a human face, the tiny lights set behind the plastic shell flashing to form blinking eyes and a smiling mouth.

"Press the button on the table if you need anything!"

She skipped away, swinging her empty tray back and forth in the air.

Tyler looked at his drink. It looked like plain orange juice. A quick sip confirmed that it was, in fact, not. He winced and set it down on the round white table in front of his seat. Josh promptly leaned forward and took a sip through the straw. He swallowed and frowned. Tyler didn't know Josh was capable of eating (or of pretending to, at least).

"Don't like it?" Brendon asked.

"Uh, no. Too bitter," Tyler said.

"Here, take the appletini. We'll trade."

He handed Tyler a glass of a green liquid that reminded him of absinthe. It smelled sugary.

He took a sip. Sweet, and not much else. Maybe it didn't have too much alcohol in it.

Josh watched him drink. He glanced at him from the corner of his eye as he quickly swallowed down the entire drink in one go.

"Hey, dude, you're supposed to savor those things," Brendon said, stirring his screwdriver with a little blue straw before taking a delicate sip.

"Whoops."

"You really don't know how to do these things, do you?"

"No. I never had any reason to."

"Aw. Come on, let's go dance. Maybe you'll find someone."

"I don't really want to--"

"Sure you do!"

Tyler got one last look at Josh before he found himself tugged out of the lounge. He didn't immediately stand, but he gave him a quick nod, which hopefully meant _I'll get you_.

The dance floor was hot, sweaty, and terrifying. Brendon had disappeared somewhere, people were bumping into him left and right, and the lights kept flashing on and off until he could no longer tell left from right. The fact that the appletini definitely had a lot more alcohol than he expected it to didn't help much either. A high heeled shoe stabbed his foot and he yelped. Cursing, he tried to make his way off the floor. Several times people grabbed him in an attempt to dance, and he shoved them away, anxiety verging ever closer towards panic.

"Tyler! Tyler!"

He swiveled his head around madly and saw Josh wading through the other patrons, reaching out to grab Tyler. He gladly took his hand, and together they wrestled their way out of the crowd.

"Oh my God," Tyler wheezed, breathing hard and sweating. "That was-- that was horrible."

"Now I understand why you aren't his best friend."

"I like him, I like him, I like him. We're just different, is all."

"I can tell. Do you think he'll mind if we leave early?"

"No. He-- he expected me to go home with someone anyways."

"Oh. I'd have to follow you in that case."

"Yeah, and then you'd have to watch me do, uh, whatever."

"Sex doesn't bother me."

"Great. Now let's get out of here."

There was a back exit, much subtler than the front. It opened into a quiet, dirty alleyway. Tyler's anxiety subsided greatly, and now his breathing was steady enough that he could get enough air.

"We should call a taxi."

"Right."

He checked his pockets, hands still a little shaky, before realizing that he didn't bring his wallet, having left it behind in an attempt to save money and Brendon’s promise that he’d pay for Tyler’s first night out.

"Oh no."

"We can walk," Josh said. "There's GPS on the tablet."

"That's not the problem. It's dangerous."

"I'm equipped in basic self-defense."

"These people have guns."

"I don't get damaged the way you do, Tyler."

"Right."

Tyler decided to walk. If they got home before twelve, they should be okay. Some people were still at work and the streets were still fairly busy. The lights would always be bright enough to see down the alleys.

His phone found the way home. He lived in a bad part of town. This was easy enough to ignore when he only left his apartment to go to work and to the park on Saturdays, but not when he was out in the middle of the night. It was two miles back home, much farther than what a sedentary Tyler was used to. He tried to hide the fact that he was tired and shaken; he didn’t want Josh to know and offer to help. He already knew his mind was weak, knowing that his body was as well would just be too much.

There were entire blocks where the lights were dead. The power grid in the city had long been deteriorating, and the poorer neighborhoods were especially neglected.  
They were passing a derelict machine shop when they heard footsteps, hard and fast on the cracked concrete. They turned around to see what was coming up behind them, and that was when they were surrounded. Several people poured from the abandoned building, circling them. The person who had run up behind them stepped forward. They pulled down their hood and revealed a blunt, pale face that grinned behind a sharp, dark knife.

Oh no.

“Give us your phone. And your tablet,” he said, pointing at Josh.

Tyler looked at Josh. He said he could fight, why did he hand him his tablet? The muggers here could never be satisfied.

"You too," he said, pointing the knife at Tyler. He shrank away from the wicked point and dug his phone from his pocket.

“Hmm. Neither of these are worth much. How about your wallet?”

Tyler shook his head. “I don’t-- I don't have one.”

The man struck his face. “Liar!”

He was much stronger than his frail appearance would suggest, and Tyler fell to the floor. He gripped the side of his face, groaning, and Josh tugged him upright by the arm, guarding him. Something about him changed. His posture stiffened and his breathing stopped. Was this the defense protocol he was talking about?

“Failsafe activated,” he said, and his voice was as cold and sharp as steel as Tyler brushed himself off, watching in surprise as Josh stared down the group. “You will be reported to the proper authorities for assault, robbery, and possession of an illegal--”

A TASER crackled before he could finish, and Josh convulsed, voice glitching, before falling to the ground. The smell of fried circuitry filled the air. Oh, God.

Tyler’s eyes darted from person to person. He had shrunken in on himself, staying close to Josh’s inert body as two people stepped forward. They grabbed Josh by the ankles, and that was when Tyler howled.

“No! Let him go!”

He lunged to take Josh back when he was intercepted by another person, a burly woman who stank of old sweat and motor oil. She hoisted him in the air with no effort at all, binding his arms to his torso and rendering them useless. His shouts fell on deaf ears as they dragged him and Josh into the machine shop.

He was tossed down in a chair and zip-tied at the wrists. Frantic, he wondered why and for how long they would keep him there. Someone grinned as they passed him. Tyler realized that he was crying, and gritted his teeth as he watched the scene before him unfold.

Josh was laid out on a mechanical bench, limp and dead to the world. More people emerged from the spare rooms in the shop and crowded around him as he was inspected and slowly dismantled. He could hear the drills whirring as they loosened the invisible screws expertly hidden in his body. Arms and legs and tiny pistons were all packed into crates, labeled, and left in the corner, probably to be sold later. The sight of his exposed innards, an unnatural contrast against the organic appearance of his outsides, shocked him into action.

“Let me out!” he shouted. “Hey!”

“Dude, shut up,” someone said.

He struggled, trying to break the ties, but all it did was cut red lines into his wrists. He sobbed in frustration and tilted his head to the ceiling to shriek, hoping someone would hear.

“I swear to God— Jenna! Knock this guy out for us.”

A young woman split from the crowd that had gathered around Josh, picking up a small syringe and a strip of thin rubber from a filthy table. Shit.

Tyler’s heart thumped in his chest as he approached, towering over him. She wore a medical mask over her face, and the only thing he could see about her was that her eyes were drooping. Sad.

She tied the rubber strap tight around his bicep, tight enough to hurt. She pulled back the sleeve of his blazer and held his arm steady as she pushed the long needle beneath the surface of his skin. He hissed and tried to twist away from the sharp pain, but she was strong and so were the zip ties.

A dreadful chill spread from the injection site and up his veins, making its way to his heart and spreading it all around his body. He was frozen.

"Shh. It’s okay."


	5. Chapter 5

Tyler woke up in a basement. His wrists were sore, but the plastic ties were gone. There was a bandage on his left arm, the clear gel solidifying and darkening to match his skin tone. He was lying on a ratty sofa, a bright light shining right above his face. He sat up, rubbing his eyes. The room was lit with bare light bulbs, shining white and harsh and casting deep shadows in the corners of the room. The air smelled like dust, laundry detergent, and mildew. There was a sink in one corner, and a wall lined with cupboards and shelves on the opposite end. There was a small table and a chair in an empty corner, and on it, a sleeping laptop. The side of the room that held the door had three small windows set high near the ceiling, revealing the lawn of an apartment building. There was a mechanic’s bench near the wall with the shelves, and on it were a jumble of parts in dingy crates. Josh’s detached head rested on the metal, wires dangling from his severed neck. His clothes were in a pile at the foot of the bench. Tyler shuddered and looked away.

He had no idea where he was, or why Josh was disassembled. No one else was in the room, and he could hear no activity outside. The clock on the wall told him it was late in the morning.

“Hello?”

He swallowed and rubbed his scalp nervously. The last thing he remembered was showing up at the nightclub with Brendon. Had something happened to him during that time? Did he go home with someone, as unlikely as that sounded?

Someone opened the door. Tyler sat back down on the couch, eyeing the intruder warily.

It was a young woman with blonde hair and blue eyes. She was carrying a bag of miscellaneous items from a computer parts store Tyler recognized. She wore the coveralls typical of a low-level electrician, stained with machine oil and charred in several places. There was a screwdriver in her front pocket.

“You holding up well?” she asked, dropping the bag on the ground.

“Who are you?”

“I’m Jenna. I was with the guys that robbed you. You don’t remember that because I drugged you.”

“What?”

“It wasn’t anything personal, I had to. Lemme explain.”

She pulled out the chair from the desk and sat down a few feet away from him, elbows resting on her knees and leaning forward. Her eyes were piercing, almost frighteningly so, and he looked away, uncomfortable.

"You and your assistant were walking when my guys surrounded you. They found out your friend was a robot and drugged you so you wouldn't recognize them later. You know how the police are with their facial identification. That’s just what they do. They took him apart and they were gonna sell him when they could. However, this guy is special, and I convinced them to let me keep him, for a price.”

Tyler looked at Josh. His naked torso lay half-assembled on the bench. His head and limbs surrounded it.

“What— what makes Josh special?”

Tyler wondered if Realness wasn’t just their own idea.

“I know him.”

He stared at her blankly.

“I used to work at the hospital, the same one you got him from. I was the one who did repairs and managed their software. I recognized his serial number when we were taking him apart. He's a lot older than he looks, you know. About fifteen years old, I think. He’s still in pretty good condition.”

“He seemed a lot more—“

“Naïve?” Jenna asked, getting up to go to the bench. 

“Yeah.”

“He’s charming like that.”

She picked up the toolbox she left on the ground near the leg of the bench and pulled out her pliers, tinkering with Josh and putting his multitude of tiny little parts back together like an enormous puzzle. She obviously knew what she as doing.

“Do the other robots all have different personalities?” he asked.

“It always takes them a while to develop one. But they do. That’s what makes them different from other robots. After a while, they start wanting things for themselves.”

She wrenched his ribs together, sealing in his air chambers and oil pump with a pneumatic hiss.

“Do fix all the ones you recognize?"

“Yep.”

“Why do you care so much?”

Jenna was quiet. That usually meant displeasure of some sort, right?

“They’re easier than people, really. Most people don’t think they’re alive, but they are, sometimes in a way humans aren’t. I’ve always had a hard time talking to people. Robots— not just assistants, waiters and taxi drivers too— are more predictable.”

Jenna was probably the first person he’s met who has the same problem as he.

“Josh has just disturbed my life so far, actually,” Tyler said.

“You’ve got to be more open to change.”

“It’s not that easy.”

“It isn’t. It just takes some time. But people, no matter what their heads are like, can get used to anything. How long have you had him?”

“Less than a week.”

“Oh. That explains it. They’re always a little… _impersonal_ , during the first few weeks. They start to adapt their language and become more complex as time goes on.”

“Isn’t he fifteen years old? That’s plenty of time to become natural.”

“This version of him is less than a week old. His body has been around for fifteen years, but his software? It’s been specially designed with you in mind. He’s still mostly just bare bones, psychologically.”

He filled in the gaps.

“So... his last self has been erased?”

Jenna nodded, solemn. “Exactly. You're not his first patient, and you won't be his last.”

“What happened to the other selves?”

“They’re wiped from the hard drive and stored in the hospital archives for future reference. That’s what I did when they’re returned to the hospital— fix them up and wipe them. But I told you how much I like robots, right?”

“Yeah.”

Jenna stopped working on Josh and opened one of the cupboards. There were nearly a dozen tiny plastic fishbowls filled with USBs on the lower shelf. She took one and handed it to him, sitting down on the chair at the desk as she watched him inspect one of the little plastic sticks.

They were all identical in design: small, angular, and white, and written on in the same bubbly handwriting. What they were titled, however, was different.

J-CO-618: Sandra, 2143-2145

J-CO-618: Mark, 2145-2146

J-CO-618: Guadalupe, 2147-2150

“Were these all his different patients?”

“Yeah.”

“You kept them.”

“I did.”

Tyler tilted the bowl left and right, hearing the plastic cases clink against each other as they rattled around inside. The dusty plastic of the bowl caught the light and reflected it with a murky shine.

“Is that why you don’t work there anymore? Because they found out what you were doing?”

“I wouldn’t have them if they did. I left because I didn’t want to erase any more memories. These robots, they’re not just machines. They have souls. They're alive. Quitting was the coward’s way out, I know, but there wasn’t much I could do. I still can’t.”

“Oh. I’m sorry.”

“Thanks. I did some odd repair jobs here and there, and then I eventually got picked up by the guys I’m currently with. I hate it as much as I hate the job at the hospital— I’m basically doing the same thing, and it's illegal on top of that-- but they like me, and it gives me enough so that I can live here. I don't have anything else.”

“It’s worse than my place.”

“Probably.”

“So what are you going to do? Fix Josh?”

“Yeah.”

“You don’t want anything in return?”

People never did favors for nothing.

“I want a lot of things, but I’m not sure if you’re capable of giving me that. You have a assistant, after all. It wouldn't be fair for me to ask that of you.”

“I could be your friend. I’ll help you when I can. I have to pay you back somehow.”

“A favor sounds good. Though you better not back down on your deal when I ask for it.”

“Of course I’ll help you.”

“Good.”

She got up and resumed working on Josh. Tyler wanted to help, but he knew he’d just get in the way. His knowledge of computers wasn’t advanced enough for this kind of work.

“Hey, Jenna.”

“Hm?”

“Can I keep these?”

He gently shook the bowl of USBs.

“No. Not yet.”

“What do you mean?”

“You’re going to show them to him, aren’t you?”

That was exactly what Tyler had intended to do once Josh was functional.

“Will that do something?” he asked.

“Yeah, it’ll traumatize him. He’s still too new to handle it. Give him six months. Or a year.”

“That’s so long.”

“You can’t expect a toddler to understand death." She frowned. "Not that he’s a toddler. He’s very smart.”

“I get what you mean.”

"So you understand why I won't give you those USBs."

"Yeah."

Tyler still pocketed one when she wasn't looking. Erica, 2155-2156. His heart raced. It was light in his breast pocket, invisible through the thick shell of his blazer, which badly needed a wash. Sweat and dirt and grime on his clothes made his whole essence feel filthy.

"Is there a laundry room in here?" he asked.

"Yep," Jenna said. "First floor, second room near the mailboxes. Wait-- take your phone. I got that back too. The tablet's gone, though."

She pulled it out of one of her pockets and handed it to him, the pointed at a box of miscellaneous chargers on one of the shelves. "You’ll need to charge it. One of them should fit."

"Thanks."

He washed his blazer by hand in the large sink in the laundry room. It was above ground, and warm sunlight streamed in through the metal-barred windows. His phone rested on the light blue tile, charging at an unoccupied socket near the door. The USB was in his trouser pocket. He was alone.

Jenna seemed strange. She didn't pretend that the assistants were real-- she genuinely believed they were. But what did she know about how conscious they were? She was human, and only lived as herself. Everyone experiences reality differently, his doctor had once told him, and he was right. He had his own reality. The people who visited the little temple on the corner of his street had their own. His mother and Brendon and Josh all had their own ideas of what was real and how things worked.

He decided that she was just ignorant as he threw his blazer into the dryer, setting it to 'delicate'.

His phone chimed. It had finished charging. He turned it on and checked to see if he missed anything. Saturday, 9:45, 5/20/63. 8 missed messages, 3 missed calls.

He realized that he had missed his morning walk with his mother.

_I'm here_

Sent by Mom at 8:10 AM

_Where are you Tyler? I can't see you_

Sent by Mom at 8:23 AM

 

_Are you sick? You should have called last night_

Sent by Mom at 8:30 AM

 

_Tyler you never miss our walks. Did something happen?_

_I'm calling your office_

Sent by Mom at 8:32 AM

 

_They said you left with a coworker on Friday. You were wearing your going-out clothes. Tyler, are you okay?_

_Tyler_

Sent by Mom at 8:40 AM

 

_I don't want to report you as missing. I love you Tyler. Please call_

Sent by Mom at 9:05 AM

 

Shit. Tyler scrunched the hair at the back of his head, knowing how angry she would be if he told her what had happened. She wouldn't allow him outside. Still, he called.

"Tyler?!" she immediately asked.

"Hi, Mom. I'm sorry for not calling."

"Oh my God, Tyler, you scared me so much."

"Sorry."

"What happened?"

"I-- I was walking, and then I was--"

"Tyler."

Oh no.

"You're not lying to me, are you?"

He stuttered something out. He hated being such a terrible liar.

"Use your language, Tyler. Did you lie to me?"

"Yes," he choked.

Silence for one, two, three beats.

"Come home. Now."

He could hear her breathing hard, and then she hung up.

Shit.

* * *

'Home' was not Tyler's apartment, but his mother's. It was in a nicer part of town than his was, from years of work and wealth compounded and waiting to be given to his more competent brothers and sisters. Tyler wasn't jealous of that. He never liked big homes.

He borrowed Jenna's bus pass and eventually made it to her door.

He knocked once, twice, muscles weak.

It was as if she was waiting right behind the door. It opened immediately, and the old woman looked up at him. He had long since outgrown her, but her eyes were the same shade of unreadable, and the slurry of love and fear churning his insides had remained unchanged since childhood.

"Tyler," she said, voice steady, and Tyler remembered why he dropped out and got so nervous and loved the radio so much.

"Yes, Mom?"

"Come inside."

The interior was spotless, minimalist, and perfectly symmetric. There was a vase of roses on the dining table, each one perfect and sweet-smelling, perfume burning his nose. She sat him down at the table, less than a foot from the pungent roses.

"Can I move--"

"No."

Tyler swallowed. His mother sat down across from him.

"Okay. Let's start with the easy things. Where's Josh?" she asked.

"He's being repaired."

That wasn't a lie. His voice was even and quiet, inoffensive as the pale wallpaper lining his mother's house.

"Where?"

"A friend's house."

That wasn't a lie either.

She wrinkled her nose. "Brendon?"

"No."

"Who?"

"Um."

That wasn't a lie-- it wasn't an answer at all. Bad choice. His mother leaned forward in her seat until she was inches from his face. He fought not to shrink away, eyes hot with tears that threatened to spill. He wished he could force them back into his eyeballs.

"I was so scared, Tyler, that you were dead or worse. You owe me the truth. Stop crying!"

Tyler coughed, wiping his eyes. The tears soaked into his shirt sleeves. That was when his mother noticed the bandage. She ripped it off, revealing the tiny, red wound ringed by the telltale greenish stain of a pharmaceutical drug.

"Drugs?" she demanded. "What _happened_?!"

“I got mugged, Mom! I was walking home when it happened.”

“And they drugged you?”

“Yes,” Tyler said, squeezing his eyes shut. His hands ached to rip at his hair but it would make her angrier. He let his short nails dig into the flesh of his palms until his skin burned. “They took Josh. They— they were going to dismantle him for p-parts. And they took me too, so I would— so I would forget. But someone saved me, Mom, and they’re fixing Josh right now.”

He sat straight like a rod, waiting for her to demand more information. His panicked breathing filled up the cold room. She seemed satisfied, however. She huffed.

“This is why I don’t like you going outside at night, Tyler. It’s not safe, and I think you’ve learned your lesson from that by now, right? Say ‘yes’.”

“Yes.”

"Why were you even outside?"

"Uh, my friend wanted me to spend the evening with him." 

"Were you drinking?"

Tyler swallowed. "Yes."

He braced himself for a shout or another slap. She never said he couldn't drink but he knew she hated it when his father did. 

Instead, she just sighed and buried her head in her hands, heartbroken. Somehow that felt worse. 

She sat like that for a few minutes. Concerned, Tyler reached out to try and place a comforting hand on her shoulder. She slapped it away. He yanked his hand back,  tucking it under his thigh as if to keep it safe. 

Eventually she sat up and pulled her phone out of her pocket, dialing a number Tyler couldn’t read from his position.

“What are you doing?” he asked. He resisted the urge to peer at the screen. 

“Calling the police.”

“Wait—for what?”

She looked at him, incredulous.

“To report the crime, what do you think? What, what’s wrong?”

“The person, the person who helped me, she was with them. She’ll go to jail too—“

She slapped him. Her arms had grown weak with age and she no longer wore her rings after his father died, but it stung and he whined like a dog. He scrambled up from his chair, shrinking to try to appease her. It didn't work. She glared at him as he watched every twitch of muscle, every potential for movement, and he the back of the chair so hard he was sure his fingers would break.

“She!?”

Tyler nodded. “Yes.”

“You know what the doctor said. No dating until you’re better. And a gang member no less.”

Tyler was bursting with corrections: that he wasn’t going to get better, that Jenna wasn’t like the others, and that he wasn’t attracted to her. But he kept them all inside. She would keep yelling if he did. Especially if he mentioned the last one.

“I’m not, Mom,” he said, wiping his eyes. “You know I don’t lie.”

“Who knows what really goes on with you,” she said. “You should come back and live with me. I don’t think you can handle yourself.”

“But I have Josh.”

“Who clearly isn’t able to handle the type of danger you get yourself into.”

“I know.”

She seemed to soften. Agreeing with her always worked.

“I’m sorry, Tyler. Sit down. I don’t mean to hurt you when I do that. I was angry, and you just get lost in your own head and that’s the only way to get you out of it.”

Josh had never hit him (yet).

“I know. I’m sorry I get like that.”

“You can’t help it. It’s my fault for not raising you better. You were the first child. We didn’t know what to do.”

“I know. It’s okay.”

“Will you forgive me, Tyler?”

“Yeah.”

She reached across the table to lay her hand on his shoulder. It was wrinkled and soft. Tyler tried not to tense at the sensation of her cool hand sapping his heat through his black shirt.

“Don’t go out anymore, okay?”

“Yeah.”

“And don’t talk to that girl.”

Tyler winced.


	6. Chapter 6

Josh was reassembled by the time Tyler made it back to Jenna’s building. His blazer was dry. He pulled it from the dryer and slipped it over his shoulders, soft and warm and wrinkled like a hug.

“You’re back,” Jenna said when he descended into the basement. She was sitting cross-legged on the sofa, cleaning out dark grease from underneath her nails. 

“Yeah, I am,” he said, pulling out the chair and sitting next to Josh. He was in good condition now, if not a little scuffed. The damage sustained on his skin would heal itself thanks to the nanobots that worked to preserve his protein-based dermal layer. The small wounds were filled with congealed red muscle lubricant— an imitation of clotted blood.

“What happened?” she asked.

“My mom wanted to know what happened to me. She got mad when I told her, and she called the cops.”

“I'm sorry. It wasn't your fault, just so you know. And the police won't be a problem." 

"I'm sorry for all the trouble. Is Josh done?”

She looked over at him. “Yeah, pretty much."

“Can I turn him on?”

“You don't need to ask me. Go ahead."

The skin on his wrist revealed his controls. There was the charger port, and beneath it, a little power button that glowed red when he pressed it.

Josh booted up very quickly for a machine his size. First his fans began running, his chest rising and falling. Then his fingers twitched, uncurling like fern fronds. His eyes opened last, focusing as he looked at Tyler.

“Failsafe deactivated. Salutations, Tyler,” he said. "I'm here to help."

Jenna laughed. “Where’d he learn that one from?”

“Charlotte’s Web,” Tyler said. “He got into my books a few days ago.”

Josh sat up and stretched, and Tyler could hear the tiny clicks of his pieces snapping back into alignment.

“What happened?” he asked. "Are you safe?"

"I'm fine," Tyler said. "Don't worry about me. I wasn't hurt. You should ask Jenna, she has a better idea of what happened."

“Hello, Jenna,” Josh said, sliding off the bench to shake her hand. He still wasn’t wearing anything and didn't seem to care. Not that he had anything to hide. Jenna shook his hand, unperturbed by his nudity.

"Hi, Josh. Do you know who I am?" 

Josh went still for a moment, thinking.

"I'm afraid I don't recognize you. But thank you for repairing me, and for helping Tyler. Are those robbers still around?”

“No,” she said. “We're not in the machine shop. I talked to them; they’ll leave you guys alone now.”

“I appreciate it. But why did you save us? I'm sure they weren’t happy about that.”

"I don't like to go after assistants," Jenna said. "I convinced them to spare you."

That wasn't the whole truth. 

"Well, either way, thank you," Josh said. "We really appreciate it."

* * *

They walked home in silence, shoulder to shoulder. It felt odd not being with his mother on a Saturday the way he always was, but it was still the same, in a way. He was out for a walk with someone, and he was going to the food court to buy the fake Mexican food he loved so much. He'll take his notebook and his pen and see if he could make any poems out of his week (he hadn't been able to for the last few months, but maybe this time would be different.) He needed to get used to going out with Josh. His mother was going to ignore him for several weeks as punishment, he knew, and he couldn't depend on his mother forever anyways. This would be a good way to start.

Tyler changed when he got home. He had been wearing that outfit for nearly two days and he wanted out. He tossed his shirt and pants into the hamper while his tie and blazer went back into his closet. Josh watched him as he stripped and changed into a soft t-shirt and a worn pair of jeans, his kimono finalizing his choice. It didn't bother Tyler that Josh was watching him change. He knew he didn't care.

"Tyler?" Josh asked.

"Hmm?" Tyler asked as he zipped his fly.

"May I borrow some clothes? I don’t think I can wear mine anymore."

Josh was right. His grey sweater was torn and stained with oil and shoe marks, and his jeans were hardly in better condition.

"Sure. Just grab whatever you want. We're about the same size-- it should fit."

Josh picked out the white short-sleeved button up Tyler wore in the summer and a pair of black jeans. He didn't seem to like colorful things. Tyler watched him change. In the sunlight, he noticed that Josh had tiny little freckles dotting his back and shoulders. He liked that, actually. It was an interesting touch.

He strapped his fanny pack on before nodding and giving him a thumbs up.

At the food court, Josh sat across from Tyler at a two-person table, eyeing his notebook as Tyler ate his burrito. He was starving, and he hardly paid any mind to the way Josh stared at the small blue notebook, a pen tied to the metal spiral with a length of string.

"Tyler?" Josh asked. "What's in that notebook?"

"Poems," Tyler said. "You can look if you want."

"Isn't that private?"

"Not really. I post everything online. I just like to do the writing by hand and I keep it there."

"Oh, alright."

Josh took the notebook and opened it to the first page. He read much more slowly than he did his books or articles. His brow was creased as he read, and Tyler hoped that was because Josh was concentrating on his work, not having a hard time processing his terrible handwriting. 

Josh spent a long time reading his poems, cover to cover. Tyler finished every bite of his food. When Josh was done, he set the notebook down and looked at him with intent, and Tyler averted his gaze.

"Tyler," Josh said very seriously, and for a wild moment Tyler feared that Josh would say something terrible. "It's beautiful. I like it a lot."

Beautiful. Tyler blinked. Normally he would be flattered, he rarely got praise for his work, but the word caught and pulled like delicate fabric snagging on a thorn. Since when was Josh aware of beauty? Was this just something he was programmed to say?

"Beautiful?" Tyler asked. "In what way?"

"I mean, it's-- it makes me--"

Tyler had never seen Josh at a loss for words before. He remembered what Jenna said about them coming to life. He thought about the USB he hid in his pocket. He had moved it  
from his trousers to his jeans, and now its outline in his pocket was the only thing he could feel. He remembered reading the Skin Horse's explanation of Realness as a child.

"Well, here's a better question: what makes things beautiful, Josh?"

"Do you know?"

Josh had a habit of turning questions on Tyler and frustrating him when he realized he didn't know.

"Well, scientifically speaking, people find symmetry and harmony beautiful."

"Though this doesn't really apply to writing."

"No, it doesn't. I think that's another kind of beauty. You find that kind when you understand something or someone. Like when I listen to the radio. I listen to the lyrics and I understand what these people are talking about, and that little invisible connection I have to them is beauty. And when a mother loves their baby. No matter what they do or what they look like, they'll always love them and find them beautiful because they understand them."

Josh nodded. "I think that's empathy. I was designed to mimic it."

"They always said I had trouble having enough of it. I have to do the same thing you do."

Josh tilted his head. "I think you're very empathetic, Tyler. You just show it differently."

"The doctors said I can't understand people's faces. Or what they're feeling from the way they speak."

"But you understand them when they write poems, right? You wouldn't be able to without that ability. I don't know what beauty and empathy is supposed to feel like-- I'm only me, after all. I don't know how humans see the world, so I'll just go along with what I’ve been told it is."

"Would you believe me if I told myself the same thing a few days ago?"

"I would, actually."

Josh smiled, and Tyler could see his dry teeth and hear the humming of his fans. It didn't bother him as much as it did at first. He realized it wasn't a sensory problem-- just a psychological one. He had grown used to Josh much faster than he thought he would. He didn't realize how lonely he was until he had someone by his side.

"Josh?"

"Yes?"

"I'm sorry for hating you earlier. I changed my mind about you pretty quickly."

"I know. That's good. That's better than taking a long time to change, right?"

"I guess you're right."

"And I'm not mad about it. I know why you were unhappy with me. I forgive you, if you want forgiveness."

"Are you being honest?"

"Of course."

Josh sighed and ran a hand through his springy curls. An oddly human quirk. The USB felt hot in his pocket.

 _Be patient_ , he reminded himself. He was only a week old. It didn't matter if circumstances or tampering accelerated his development. Simulated or not, who knew what suddenly presenting him with two years of memories would do to his feelings?

Still, he was tempted.

* * *

Tyler sat on the couch, legs tucked to his chest as he held Josh's hand. It was eight o' clock, and a movie was playing on the public television station as usual. Josh was leaning forward on his seat, eyes wide as he watched Jack and Rose embark on the enormous unsinkable ship. Tyler didn't pay as much attention. He had seen that movie several dozen times before, and the audio became comforting background noise for him as he inspected Josh's hand. Tyler was a fidgeter, and fiddling with Josh’s hand was better than biting his nails or bouncing his leg.

His skin was soft, and so were the fine hairs traveling up his arms, so thin they were nearly invisible. He ran his fingers over his palm, and his fingers twitched. Josh didn't seem to notice it at all. Tyler continued  
toying with his fingers, bending them forwards and backwards. He noticed that they were much more flexible than the average person's.

A commercial break came on. Josh broke his gaze away from the TV and mirrored Tyler's pose, a more comfortable position. He noticed that Tyler was touching him, and he gave a small smile and let him continue. Thank God he didn't find that weird. Now Josh's thigh was pressing against his legs, and the pocket that hid his USB. Josh wiggled away from the press of the plastic, and looked at Tyler. He better not ask--

"Hey, Tyler, what's that in your pocket?"

"It's a USB."

"What for?"

Shit.

"Just some personal files. Nothing world-changing."

He held his breath. Did Josh believe him? Would he hate him if he found out.

"Oh, okay."


	7. Chapter 7

Tyler woke up in the middle of the night. Josh was standing over his bed, illuminated by the blue lights outside.

"Salutations, Tyler," he whispered, and his voice was rough.

"Josh?"

Josh lifted his covers and the cold air on his legs made him shiver. He climbed in.

"Dude, what are you doing?" he asked.

"I'm here to help."

Tyler was baffled, but he let Josh settle on top of him and tangle their limbs together. He was lighter than he expected, but the pressure was comforting. In the murky light, Tyler couldn't make out the details of his face, though it was only a few inches from his. Tyler could feel his warm breath on his skin. Josh's fans hummed faintly as he breathed. He felt the lower buzz that replaced his heartbeat.

Tyler reached out and ran a hand over his smooth face, cupping his jaw. Josh made a small sound and closed his eyes, and his head sunk until it rested on his chest. His hair smelled like clean, warm plastic.

He was about to close his eyes and go back to sleep when he felt soft lips and warm breath on his neck. Sharp teeth and a wet tongue traced over his skin, and he gasped.

"Josh," he breathed.

"Hmm?" Josh hummed, his arms coming to wrap around Tyler.

"That wasn't a question," he laughed.

Josh laughed against his skin before trapping it between his teeth and sucking, roaming up and down his neck until Tyler let out a small moan. The sound seemed to spur him on, and Tyler brought up a hand to settle his fingers in his hair and guide him towards his mouth. Josh obliged and brought their mouths together. Heat bloomed inside Tyler as Josh kissed him. His lips were hot, and his tongue was wet.

His tongue was wet.

His tongue was _wet_.

Josh didn't make saliva.

Tyler woke up.

It was morning, the sun had risen, and Josh was not in Tyler's bed. 

It was just a dream. A very weird one. He knew it wasn'tabnormal; he's had them before (though they made talking to Brendon awkward for a few days after that), but he's never had one about a robot. Much less one not designed for sex. Josh didn't even have any genitals to speak of.

He sat up, and looked under the covers. He was hard. Jesus Christ. He wasn't going to touch himself. Touching himself to the thought of a dream about being with a robot was just one step above actually going up to Josh and actually kissing his small, dry mouth. The thought made him shudder.

He managed to will it away by the time he got dressed and washed his face with cold water. He wandered to the living room, and stopped dead in his tracks.

Josh was on the sofa, staring blankly at the wall. The skin of his wrist was pulled back, and the USB Tyler had stolen was plugged in. He was perfectly still save for the slight rise and fall of his chest.

"Josh?" Tyler asked, voice suddenly hoarse.

Josh didn't even glance his way. "Why didn't you tell me."

Josh had limited tonal abilities, but Tyler knew it wasn't a question. Everything about him seemed brittle, like rotted wood about to crumble. One wrong step and everything would fall apart. Tyler edged closer to the kitchen, distancing himself away from Josh. He knew Josh wouldn't, _couldn't_ hurt him, but he was ready nonetheless.

"I..." Tyler swallowed. "I didn't think you were ready. Jenna didn't either. And you aren't."

Now Josh turned to look at him, and much to Tyler's surprise, he realized that he had been crying. Tears ran into his mouth and made his teeth glisten. He didn't know Josh had tear ducts. He remembered his dream of Josh’s wet lips before he could stop himself.

"Jenna knew about this too?" Josh asked. "How long did _you_ know?"

"She doesn't know I took that thing," Tyler said. None of this was Jenna's fault and he wasn't going to let Josh hate someone who didn't deserve it. "And she knows about you because she used to work at the hospital you're from. I only knew that since yesterday. I wasn't sitting on this for that long."

"And what did you mean about me not being ready? You can't decide what's best for me."

Tyler's eyes were starting to water. He blinked them away, not wanting Josh to see him wiping his eyes. He hated how crying had become a reflex in the face of others' anger. It made him look weak. 

"I know, I know," Tyler said, trying to keep his voice from breaking. "I messed up. I should have told you as soon as possible. But she said it would hurt you. You've only been around for a week. I'm sorry."

Josh was quiet, dismay evident on his face.

"I'm sorry, Josh," Tyler said again, trying to confirm that Josh had accepted his apology.

Josh suddenly straightened himself out, and Tyler shrank, but he didn't march up to Tyler to hit him. He rolled his skin back into place, adjusted his white shirt, and wiped his eyes. Again Tyler was perplexed by his ability to cry. It didn't seem like something a machine should be able to do.

"You should sit down," Josh said.

Was this a trap?

"I'm not going to hurt you, Tyler," he said.

Tyler practically sprinted to the sofa, not wanting to test his patience, perching on the hard arm to keep himself a safe distance from Josh.

"Are you mad?" Tyler asked.

"Yes. But that doesn't make you a bad person, Tyler."

Josh was a very good liar, but Tyler had spent his entire life learning how to sniff them out. Maybe changing the subject would take Josh's mind off of it.

"What did you see?" he asked him.

The furrow between Josh's brows disappeared as he recalled his memory. He didn't seem to be capable of experiencing more than one emotion at a time.

"It was... it was like suddenly remembering data you'd forgotten, but again and again. I remember her face," Josh said.

"Erica, right?" Tyler asked, relieved that his plan was working.

Josh nodded. "Erica. She had lots of freckles and red hair. She had pancreatic cancer. We would go out for walks together when she was feeling good. When she wasn't, we'd stay inside and play chess. She was a web designer. I remember sleeping next to her, sometimes, because she got cold. And lonely."

"What happened to her? Did she get better?"

Josh shook his head. "She died about a year after I met her. I was there. I was sleeping with her and her breathing began to destabilize. I was going to call the hospital, but she told me not to. So I didn't. She was twenty-seven when she died. I only called the hospital the next morning. They asked me why I didn't do anything. I said—“

Josh paused, and Tyler worried what his revelation would entail. His eyebrows creased again like he was confused.

“I said it was because I loved her?" he said.

The room felt cold. Tyler blinked.

"They looked at me strangely. I don't think they understood. I don't either. They took me away from her, to a separate room near the top floor. I saw Jenna, and I don't remember anything after that."

"You were wiped," Tyler said.

"Yeah." Josh bit his lip. "I don't know where her ashes have been stored."

"Maybe we can find her."

"Maybe. She had no family or friends. They might have just scattered the ashes to the wind."

Tyler nodded.

“Do you still love her?” he asked.

“It's strange,” Josh said. “When I open these files, I can feel and understand them, but when they're not running, I can’t. Reading those memories is like looking into another dimension."

Tyler didn't understand, but he was starting to think that he wasn't supposed to.

"I'm sorry about all this," Josh continued. "I shouldn’t have touched that USB. I'm supposed to take care of you. I'm not supposed to be angry."

Now Tyler really felt bad for treating him the way he did.

"It's okay, Josh," he said. "You're doing just fine."

"Thank you. May I ask you something, Tyler?" 

"Yeah?"

"How long have I been alive?"

Tyler swallowed. "Almost fifteen years," he said.

Josh closed his eyes as he processed Tyler's answer.

"Are there any more?" he asked.

"Yes," Tyler said, not wanting to lie anymore. There's a whole bowl of them."

"Then I have go back there," Josh said. "I have to know."

"I need to tell Jenna first," Tyler said, knowing that she'd be furious this happened. 

"She'll understand. I know she will. Come with me."

He followed. There was no routine to break on Sundays.

* * *

Josh's eyes didn't turn red and become puffy when he cried. There was a spring in his step and his eyes were alert and bright. He was a much better liar than Tyler was.

He texted Jenna before they entered the subway to warn her of their arrival. Confrontations were always easier over text.

 

_Hey_

Sent by Tyler at 11:34 AM

 

_what_

Sent by Jenna at 11:34 AM

 

_We’re coming over to your house_

Sent by Tyler at 11:35 AM

 

_??? why_

Sent by Jenna at 11:35 AM

 

_Don’t get mad at me for this but I stole one of the USBs. Josh found it and now he wants to see the rest_

Sent by Tyler at 11:36 AM

 

_i know. i saw. i mostly just wanted to see what would happen, as terrible as that sounds. he’s not too upset, is he? which one did you take?_

_you owe me two favors now btw._

Sent by Jenna at 11:37 AM

 

_That’s fair. He is pretty upset but he’s good at hiding it. He got Erica. He cried. Since when was he able to do that?_

Sent by Tyler at 11:38 AM

 

_that was probably the worst one you could give to him._

_they all can cry, to make them more sympathetic_.

Sent by Jenna at 11:39 AM

 

_Oh. Whoops. Are the others any better?_

Sent by Tyler at 11:39 AM

 

_no_

Sent by Jenna at 11:40 AM

 

_Oh. Thanks. So we’re just gonna let him see all that at once?_

Sent by Tyler at 11:40 AM

 

_it’s not like we can really keep that from him now that he knows. i don’t think we’re allowed to decide that anymore._

Sent by Jenna at 11:41 AM

 

_He still doesn't seem incredibly human to me._

Sent by Tyler at 11:42 AM

 

_you'll see soon enough._

Sent by Jenna 11:42 AM

 

_So what should I do about him in the meanwhile?_

Sent by Tyler at 11:43 AM

 

_be his friend. talk to him. treat him like everyone else. he’s no different from another person, really, it’s just his body that’s different_

Sent by Jenna at 11:43 AM

 

_They say the exact opposite about me_

Sent by Tyler at 11:44 AM

 

 _which is why you need him, i guess. i don’t really know what the hospitals are trying to do, though, when they give assistants to non-terminal patients. they just become self-aware_ _and get difficult to work with until they get returned._

_how long is it gonna be until you get there? i’m currently naked_

Sent by Jenna at 11:47 AM

 

_We’re at the last stop. It should be about five minutes_

Sent by Tyler at 11:48 AM

 

_alright. knock first_

Sent by Jenna at 11:48 AM

 

Jenna was waiting for them in the lobby when they arrived. She wouldn't let them learn the code.

“How have you been holding up, Josh?” she asked she opened the door for them. Josh took the door and held it open for Tyler, walking in after him.

“Decent,” he said, shutting the door behind him. “What about you?”

“Tyler said you said you wanted the rest of the USBs,” she said, ignoring his question.

“I do. And you worked for them.”

Jenna nodded. “I did. I didn’t like it, if it makes you feel any better. So consider this me making it up to you.”

“Thanks.”

They descended into the basement. It looked just as cluttered and chaotic as it did a few days ago. Jenna pulled the fishbowl from the cupboard, holding it out to him. Josh seemed alarmed by the sheer number of USBs inside.

“How many are in here?” he asked, turning the bowl back and forth.

“About fourteen.”

Josh looked down. “Ah.”

“You don’t have to take them, Josh,” she said.

“No,” he said, pulling the bowl a little closer to himself. “I want to.”

“Is this all you’re here for?” Jenna asked, sitting down at the desk and opening her laptop. “You should stay for a bit. I get lonely.”

“Sure,” Tyler said, and Josh nodded.

“May we take a seat?” he asked, gesturing at the worn sofa.

Jenna nodded. “Sure. Mi casa es su casa.”

“¿Hablas español? Yo también. No sabía que pudieras hablar el idioma.”

Jenna laughed. “I have no idea what you just said. It’s a figure of speech.”

It was a very old saying, one obscure enough to not be included in his programming. Tyler himself only recognized it because he heard it in old movies.

“Oh. My mistake. I’ve been programmed with seventeen different languages, and I’m capable of learning many more.”

“Yes, you can, Josh,” Jenna said, as if watching a small child show off. Josh smiled. He seemed to know that Jenna liked him.

“So, uh, have the cops gotten onto you guys?” Tyler asked to distract himself.

“No,” Jenna said. "For real, don't worry about them."

“Oh. Good. What are you working on?”

“I’m programming a patch. I already knew some basic stuff from college, but I’ve been studying it myself over the last couple of years.”

Josh had turned his attention away from the fishbowl and onto Jenna’s project. “What does it do?”

“Augments the senses,” Jenna said. “Most robots only detect pressure and temperature. I wanted to see if they could feel pain and pleasure.”

Josh looked at her, an unreadable look on his face. “Does it work?”

“Not sure yet. I’m not there yet. I’ll need a willing subject, as well.”

“I’m not allowed to have my source code altered in any way by a third party,” Josh said.

“If you say so. I saved your life, though.”

“It’s a felony.”

Jenna shrugged. “It wouldn’t be my first.”

“I hope you find someone willing to test your code,” Tyler said. ”You’re really smart, Jenna.”

A small smile teased the corner of her mouth. “Thanks."

* * *

Josh laid out the USBs on the dinner table in chronological order. His skin had been peeled back, and Tyler could see his soft synthetic tissue and the silvery alloy of his skeleton.

“You don’t have to do it if it’ll hurt you, you know,” he reminded him.

Josh shook his head. “No. I’ll be perfectly okay.”

“Okay. Do that if you want to. But I have to go to work tomorrow. Will you want to follow me? I know you want to do your own thing.”

“I don’t mind following you.”

“You’ll get bored of me eventually.”

“I hope I don't.”

Tyler rooted around in the fridge. It was full of food from the grocery store, most of it synthesized from processed algae and jellyfish. There were few crops tough and bountiful enough to provide enough food from what little fertile, temperate land remained.

He chose some bread. Synthetic milkfat. Kelp protein. He assembled a quick sandwich and took a bite, savoring the salty flavor. He sat down across from Josh.

“Hey, Josh.”

“Yeah?”

“Do you love me?”

He asked that entirely on impulse.

Josh looked at Tyler's sandwich. "I love you as much as I'm capable of."


	8. Chapter 8

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> sorry this is late again! i had a bit of a busy week and had no time to finish up the last few tweaks i wanted to make in time. thanks for being patient!
> 
> and hey, we've finally hit 20k! we're about 1/4 through the story now.

"Tyler?"

"Yeah, Josh?"

"I'm gonna look through them now. You're gonna be okay without me for a bit, right?"

"Of course. Take as much time as you need."

He wasn't going to sit by his side the whole time, but Tyler silently promised himself to keep an eye on Josh. He watched him as he rolled back his skin and inserted the first USB, the rest of them in their bowl on the coffee table. Josh blinked, the thumb drive lighting up as it connected with his brain, and Josh's eyes glazed over as he began looking through its files.

Tyler stared at him for a few minutes. Josh didn't seem aware of his presence at that point. He didn't know what to expect. What was he going to do if Josh started getting upset? He was certain that he would, at some point. Most of his patients were terminally ill, after all.

Tyler busied himself just to avoid looking at Josh. He didn't know how long it would take for him to finish going through each one, but it was just uncomfortable watching him sit and stare at nothing, occasionally smiling or frowning. He loaded his dishes in the dishwasher, sorted out his laundry, even dusted his furniture. This was the most productive he's been in months.

The tears came just as Tyler finished folding his towels. He only noticed it when he spotted the glimmer on Josh's cheek as he sorted his laundry in the living room. Josh's eyes were still far away, unseeing and unfeeling, even when Tyler carefully tapped his shoulder to see if he could somehow shake him out of it. It was a bit disturbing to watch him cry like that.

"Josh?" he said. "Josh?"

There was no response.

Tyler didn't know what to do. He couldn't see inside his head and say just the right words to comfort him. Not that anything he said would matter. Josh was lost in his own world. He had no choice but to let Josh weep silently. He put in his headphones and retreated to his room to listen to the radio in silence. _Josh would be okay,_ he told himself. He was very good at managing his emotions, better than Tyler.

Josh had taken out the USB when Tyler emerged from his room again. The tears had been wiped from his eyes, but his morose expression remained.

"Hi, Tyler," he said, and that was probably the first time he had said anything so casual.

"Hi, Josh. How are you feeling?"

The thumb drive was out of his arm now, resting harmlessly on the coffee table, metal tip safely sheathed. Josh had sealed his arm shut again.

"I'm functional," Josh said. "You seem distressed. Am I worrying you?"

_A little bit, yes, but not for the reasons you think._

"It's not you," Tyler said. "It's just the USBs. Are you going to look at the rest of them?"

"No. Not forever, though. I just want to take my time. I didn't expect it to... hurt."

"But you saw Erica."

"I did. I just thought hers was an exception."

"I'm sorry, Josh."

Tyler thought about what the the therapist of his youth had told him. _Ask them if they want to talk._

"Do you want to talk about it?" Tyler asked. He didn't know if he even _wanted_ to hear it, had the emotional energy to take it, but if it was what Josh needed, it was what he was willing to give. That was what friends (?) did.

"No."

Never mind. Tyler deflated a bit.

"Please don't take that personally, Tyler," Josh said. "It just feels private, right? You have your own secrets."

"I do."

Tyler understood. Having secrets felt good. The knowledge that he had some experience that no one else in existence would ever know about made him feel valuable. He figured that was good for Josh. 

"Thank you for being understanding, Tyler."

"Of course."

It felt good to treat Josh like a friend. It felt right.

* * *

Tyler never asked Josh about what he had seen or felt while looking through the USB, but he didn’t stop thinking about it. Josh still held Tyler's hand on the subway, and Tyler could tell that it wasn't just for his own comfort from the way he gripped Tyler's hand extra tight. Josh asked to rest his head against Tyler's shoulders as they sat on the hard plastic seats. They compromised by letting Tyler cradle his head with his arm. Josh wasn't a proud machine.

Arriving at work felt like entering a whole other dimension. People were productive and in decent spirits, recounting their weekends at the mall or the movies or the newest restaurant that opened in town. The two of them peered out at them all from Tyler's cubicle, dazed and silent.

“Both of you look completely dead,” Brendon said when he sat down next to them. He was as energetic as ever, and seemingly oblivious to their exhaustion. "Who did you go home with?"

Tyler and Josh looked at him, confused.

“You disappeared on Friday,” Brendon said. “I assume you found someone. You never answered my texts.”

The nightclub was probably the least memorable part of his weekend, which was terrifying. Tyler was the kind of person who considered seeing a new movie on TV a special event.

“Uh, no. Not exactly,” he said. "I didn't find anyone new."

“Then what did you guys do?”

Tyler had no answer for him. Brendon took that, as he took all open-ended answers, in an inappropriate manner. He grinned at them.

“Nice. Kinda kinky though, don’t you think?” he joked.

“I don’t have genitalia,” Josh said, slouching. He picked up on innuendo faster than Tyler could.

“Brendon, that's gross,” Tyler added. _He's my friend,_ he didn't say.

He beamed. “You know me.”

Tyler sighed and rested his elbows on the table. He was tempted to lay his head down, but he would get a demerit for laziness. Today was turning out to be a sad one. They happened quite often, even without the stress of a robbery and the argument with his mother. Josh’s presence made life the tiniest bit easier to manage with his contributions around the house, but he still felt listless and unproductive.

He had received a call that the internet went down on the twentieth floor. He suspected it was just the router needing to be reset. A quick dusting or unplugging should get it going again. He made Josh stay behind when he went to the elevator, accidentally pressed the wrong button, and ended up wandering around the thirty-sixth floor for half an hour until a manager pointed him in the right direction, though not before filing a report.

His boss called him down to her office an hour after that. Josh insisted on following this time, and Tyler let him. The boss (he wasn't allowed to learn her name) was terrifying. They sat together across her. Tyler stared at the glossy lines of her hairs pulled back into a frighteningly tight bun.

“Tyler,” she said.

He blinked.

“You’ve been off for the last week or so, especially today. Less productive than you normally are.”

She pulled out a chart of his productivity levels. The ratings from his coworkers had been going down in a steady line over the last month. Tyler fingered the hem his kimono, out of his boss's line of sight. He wondered if he was going to get fired. He knew he was replaceable. His heart raced.

“Do you have anything to say for yourself?” she asked.

Tyler opened his mouth to speak, but no sound came out, no matter how hard he tried. He was just too frazzled. Josh noticed and spoke up.

“We’ve just had a stressful week. It happens to everybody, and you know Tyler tries his best. Give it a few more days and he’ll be back to normal.”

She leaned back, thinking. Hopefully, Josh's commendation would be effective.

“Alright then. I'll give you one more chance. I hope you both know that my coworkers think I’m an idiot for not firing you, Tyler.”

“Yes, Ma’am.”

“That’s all. Leave my office.”

Thank God, Tyler thought. He was terrified of her.

Tyler was still feeling residual anxiety from his meeting with his boss by the time they sat down.

“Are you feeling okay, Tyler?” Josh asked as Tyler sat at his desk, watching the screensaver move.

“I think she’s going to fire me soon,” he said, knitting his fingers together.

“She’s always like that, Tyler, you know that,” Brendon said, leaning in.

“You don’t have to worry because you don’t have a assistant,” Tyler said, irate.

"You do have a point. Sorry."

"It's okay. Just don't do it again."

“Well, you don’t seem to like this place much anyways,” Josh said. “If you get fired, think of it as an opportunity to do something better. Like what Jenna did.”

“It’s not that easy to get a job. And she committed a crime and now lives in a basement. I'm sorry, but that’s a horrible example, Josh.”

“I don’t have any others.”

“I know.”

Josh sighed. "Do you think I can charge myself here?" he asked, pulling out his charger from his fanny pack.

Tyler looked at the floor beneath his desk. "There's an empty socket down there. Plug yourself in."

He watched Josh reach under the table and fit the charger in. He peeled back his synthetic skin and closed the circuit. He made a small sound of satisfaction and shut his eyes,  
slumping onto Tyler's desk.

"Am I getting in the way?" Josh asked.

"It doesn't bother me," Tyler said.

"Oh, okay. Goodnight, Tyler."

"Goodnight, Josh."

He was almost instantly asleep. His lips were slightly parted and his short, straight lashes fanned out over his cheeks. His breath cooled the skin of Tyler's hand as it rested a few inches away from his face. He looked a lot more peaceful now than he did yesterday. Pity welled up inside him. He realized how depressing it must be to be a assistant, taking care of someone until they died or were no longer needed, and then finding themselves suddenly, mercilessly wiped from existence.

Thank God Josh knew how to handle himself.

Tyler got a call. Someone's computer froze. He forced his voice into the friendliest one he could manage as he listened to their complaints. He was sad, disgustingly so, but he had people to help. He just had to act happy.

* * *

Josh's condition didn't improve as the week wore on. He hadn't touched the next USB after the first one. It was the only thing Tyler could think about by Thursday. Josh was lying on the couch, wrapped up in a spare blanket and staring at the balcony in the living room. A pigeon had landed on the metal rail, and it scouted the area for a place to nest. Tyler watched Josh watch the bird as its mate brought it a twig. Josh's eyes were dull.

Tyler was worried about him. It was a big change from outright hating him just two weeks ago, but Josh simply grew on him. There were pieces of him that were unequivocally Real, with a capital 'R', and Tyler found himself feeling excited whenever Josh laughed at his jokes or complained when he had to get up in the morning. He was as hard to read as any other person, but he made up for it in the amount of patience he showed explaining what was what to Tyler. Being Real meant being miserable, and if Josh was created for the sole purpose of alleviating that dysphoria, then he could at least return the favor in some small way.

Tyler was never very good at comforting others, even when he knew they desperately needed it. How should he express his concern to Josh? Spoken words and physical touch failed. Maybe he should just write something and turn it into a letter. That meant less stress from confrontation and stuttering.

He found his notebook and sat next to Josh on the couch, curling up to support the flimsy book with his kneecaps. He didn't journal much, his life was too monotonous for something like that, but this definitely deserved to be written down. Most of his music started out as journal entries. He opened his pen and write in quick, spidery letters. 

 _Josh went through the first USB we got from Jenna. It's really bothering him and I don't know what to do. He doesn't want to tell me what it is, either because he's ashamed of it or doesn't want to scare me away._ _I don't know what he saw or what he's thinking and that frustrates me. He's one of the few people (or sentient beings, I guess) that I actually feel comfortable talking to, and not knowing what's bothering him bothers me. I know I should leave him alone but I just worry._

_He's gotten a lot more lethargic. He kind of reminds me of myself. He tries to be helpful, but whenever he gets a moment to himself, he sits down and stares off at nothing. he sits and does nothing whenever he has a moment to himself. I don't know how to break him out of it. I don't know if I can. I can barely order food at a restaurant by myself, much less comfort someone._

Tyler paused to wring out his hand and look at Josh. He had fallen asleep, still sitting cross-legged and upright and wrapped in a soft tartan blanket. A tuft of curls poked out from the worn fabric, and he could hear the faintest buzz of his lungs. It was a little louder than normal. There must be some dust in there.

_On a lighter note, he's actually pretty adorable when he’s napping, as weird as that is to say. It's bad that he's been sleeping so much lately, though. I think he's using it as a distraction since I don't think he dreams. Or at least doesn't have nightmares. I wish he looked that peaceful when he was awake._

_Either way, I think I'm going to try and distract him with something. Even if it's just talking. I want to help him. I need him more than I'd like to admit._

He didn't have much else to say. He closed his notebook and put it away on his bookshelf, which Josh hadn't snooped through in what felt like ages. That was strange. It felt like he had been around for much longer than just a few weeks. Normally the days slipped by like water through his fingers.

His phone's alarm chimed in his pocket. It was six o' clock, and he and Josh had an appointment at the hospital today.

He walked up to Josh, still asleep on the couch, gently shaking his shoulder. "Hey, Josh," he whispered.

Josh made a small snuffling sound and woke up, blinking as he stared up at Tyler. "What is it, Tyler?"

"We need to go to the hospital," he said. "I have an appointment."

Josh frowned. "Oh, right. Okay. Let me just put the blanket away."

* * *

Josh held his hand on the subway. Through his dark, round sunglasses, Tyler could see that his expression was as flat as always. The grip he had on his hand was the only thing that gave away his anxiety. Tyler was sure that his hands would be cold and sweaty if they were capable of becoming either. He figured he would dislike the hospital after seeing what they had done to him.

"Please don't be worried, Josh," Tyler said to them as they waited for the next stop. "You're not gonna get wiped."

"I know I won’t. I’m not worried. I just remember being worried before, though. Do you feel it often?”

"I usually don't worry about something bad happening, but I do feel that when things are too bright or loud. It's basically the same thing."

"Oh. That's good to know. I only know how to take care of these emotions, not what they actually felt like. I think I understand it a lot better now. I wonder why they don't want us to feel these things if understanding it makes us better at taking care of people."

"You can't get angry about the way you're treated if you're not real, right?"

"Right."

That conclusion seemed to satisfy them both. The subway came to a stop. The hospital was right above them.


	9. Chapter 9

Josh offered his hand to Tyler in the elevator up to their doctor’s office. He would squeeze his hand rhythmically, and aligned his breathing to the pattern. Inhale, squeeze, exhale, release. Tyler held onto Josh with one hand and rubbed the fabric of his kimono with the other.

_Floor 12_

_Floor 13_

_Floor 14_

_Ding!_

Psychiatric offices hadn't changed much since the 21st century. Dr. Miller's office was carpeted and cozy, and there was no outdated machinery cluttering up the room. All it held was the doctor’s desk in front of a window, a long chaise-like seat, and a tall, narrow robot on wheels that knelt in the corner, dormant.

The doctor was sitting at his desk.

“Good morning, Tyler,” he said, holding out his hand as Tyler walked up to where he sat. Tyler shook his hand. He hoped that his grip didn’t seem weak or his palms too clammy.

“Hello,” Tyler said.

“How have you been doing?” Dr. Miller asked as Tyler sat down.

“Uh, I've been okay."

Tyler left enough room for Josh to sit, but Josh ignored it and instead knelt in the corner of the room next to the maintenance bot, which wheeled over and started to open up his panels, inspecting him for physical damage and feeding him capsules of keratin and protein. Tyler felt a little bad that he couldn't sit more comfortably, but he knew better. He didn’t feel discomfort the way humans did.

“How has life been so far?" the doctor asked. "Any changes?”

Unlike most people, the doctors held no pretenses about the fact that assistants weren’t human. Tyler would have appreciated his honesty a few weeks ago, but now he understood the comfort the lie brought. He swallowed down his uneasiness and forced himself to look at Dr. Miller in the eye.

“It’s been good,” he said, trying to think of something harmless to say as the doctor awaited to record his words on his computer. “He holds my hand when I get anxious. The breathing techniques were good too.”

“The pre-programmed breathing exercises have been doing you well?” he asked. “Do you want me to install more?”

Something inside him felt betrayed when he remembered that all of Josh's tenderness was programmed.

“Yeah,” he said. “And no, I’m okay.”

He looked at Josh. He had schooled his face into perfect neutrality, and the inhuman stillness of his body became apparent when he held his back as straight as a ramrod. His breathing was sparse. He didn’t even blink. His fans hummed above the slight shushing of the air conditioning system.

“What about the housekeeping?” Dr. Miller asked, and Tyler realized that he had been staring at Josh.

“He helps,” Tyler said, hoping the doctor didn't notice.

“Of course. It doesn’t push you too hard, does it? Or the other way around?”

“No. We do it together, or we take turns.”

“That’s very good to hear. Have you felt that your life has become more manageable with it around? Fewer meltdowns?”

The truth was that Josh had made his life a thousand times more unpredictable. But Tyler didn't hate him for it. It was better than the depressive rut he had been stuck in for months.

“Uh,” he began. “He’s definitely changed things, and I don’t always feel that it's convenient, but ultimately I know all those changes are good for me. So I’m grateful for that. I know I shouldn’t let my routine get too monotonous and he keeps that from happening.”

He was mostly regurgitating what his mother and Dr. Miller had all said to him at some point, things he knew to be the truth but not his reality. 

“Hmm,” the doctor hummed.

Was that convincing enough? Dr. Miller’s face was obscured by the light of the setting sun streaming in behind him, making him nothing but a white-coated silhouette. He was as poised and professional and unreadable as he always was.

“You seem uncomfortable with it. Are there any adjustments you’d like to make to it? Within reason, of course,” he said.

Tyler looked at Josh again. His eyes didn’t slide down to meet Tyler’s. He looked back at the doctor and shook his head.

“No. He’s fine just the way he is.”

The doctor nodded and made a few notes in his file. “Most people want adjustments made after the first few weeks. I’m surprised you don’t want to, especially given how uncomfortable you were with how-- well, robotic-- it was.”

“No,” Tyler insisted. “I got used to him. He’s not too bad, really. He helps, like I said he did.”

“Mm-hmm.”

That hum was either distracted or unconvinced. Tyler curled his toes and folded his hands together, squeezing tight enough that they began to turn purple. Josh shifted his weight on his knees, brows furrowing for a moment.

“Are you nervous, Tyler?” the doctor asked.

“Kinda, yeah,” Tyler admitted. The maintenance bot was checking Josh's coordination. Josh stayed silent as he performed his tests.

“Why? You know you can trust me. I just want to help.”

“I just get nervous around people.”

 

"I know. That's why you're here. Is there anything else you want to discuss?"

"No."

Dr. Miller passed him a tablet. "Here's your mental health survey. Try to answer them as truthfully as possible."

* * *

 

It was a relief to get home. They collapsed onto the couch together, limbs overlapping where their bodies met. Tyler stared at the ceiling.

“That was a disaster,” Josh said.

“He’s nice, but he’s creepy.”

“He’s worked there for a while. I remember him from ’55.”

“He’s been there for that long?”

“He is old.”

“I guess. Was he as intimidating back then?”

“Yes. And I always remember being stiff in there. At first it was just because of protocol, but then it was because I didn’t want anyone in there to know that something about me had changed. It’s better for them to think I’m just a machine. The hospital staff are always more uncomfortable with us than the rest of the world.”

“Except Jenna.”

“She quit, that doesn’t count.”

“I guess. Still, I’m sorry you feel so nervous in there.”

 

"Thank you, Tyler. What does being nervous feel like for you?"

"What?"

"I know how I feel when I'm nervous. I just wanted to know if you feel the same way when you get scared."

Josh's eyes were bright and searching. He was, as always, completely genuine. 

"Well, uh, how does it feel for you?"

"There's a sense of having an uncompleted task," Josh said, and Tyler tried to translate that into human terminology. "I keep thinking of scenarios in which to leave the situation."

That made some sense.

"Do you ever feel like you're in danger?" Tyler asked.

"Not particularly. My self-preservation protocol only kicks in during physical danger. This is different."

 

"Huh. Well, for people, it's more of a full-body thing. Like your self-preservation thing, except it shows up every time because our brains are kinda bad at telling the difference between someone being mad at you and someone trying to kill you."

"That's funny. Hasn't anyone ever tried to fix that?"

"Humans can't just be fixed like that, Josh. We have medicine and gene therapy and stuff, but that type of thing just comes with the package. It's like your base programming. You can't alter the code that makes you able to walk, right? I thought you knew that."

"I didn't. Thank you for telling me."

“It's no problem. Hey, you want to watch a movie?” Tyler asked. “It’s Sunday, and they’re always playing old movies at eight.”

“Sure, if there’s nothing else to do.”

“There isn’t. You helped me clean yesterday, remember?”

Josh straightened himself out and faced the screen as Tyler reached for the remote and turned the television on. Movies were always a good distraction from the outside world.

Hopefully, whatever was on would be entertaining enough to be able to keep Josh from thinking about his past lives, and Tyler from his interview with the doctor.

Tyler put his sunglasses on. The screen auto-adjusted its brightness when the sun went down, and no amount of tinkering with the television seemed to be able to change that.

“Too bright?” Josh asked.

“Yeah.”

A musical from the 20th century was playing. _The Music Man,_ it was called. Professor Harold Hill, a con man who sold musical instruments under the guise of starting a marching band, ended up falling in love with the River City’s librarian, Marian Peroo. The whole town could sing, and he saw musical instruments of all kinds. He was most jealous of the librarian’s piano. She had a real one, upright and made from shiny, brown wood that played mellow tones. He could almost feel the vibrations of its acoustic body as his mind drifted off, imagining that he was playing it.

Josh turned to him during a commercial break.

“May I lean on you, Tyler?” he asked.

“Yeah.”

Josh was practically on top of him by the middle of the movie. His weight and warmth was comforting. He could feel the rise and fall of his chest against his own. His hair tickled his neck.

Onscreen, Harold and Marian finally, finally, after almost an hour of back-and-forth, kissed.

“Well, that took long enough,” Josh said.

“Too long.”

"Does that feel any good?" he asked.

"What feels good?" Tyler asked.

Josh gestured at the screen. "Kissing," he said.

"I guess so," Tyler said. "People wouldn't do it otherwise, right?"

Strange that Josh would ask. Stranger that Tyler didn’t know. Tyler was suddenly more aware of the way Josh was pressing down on him. He decided to ignore that thought in favor of focusing on the movie, which was actually very, very interesting. Musicals were a lost art in the 22nd century, and these relics were all Tyler had left of a more melodic world.

The movie ended some time later. Harold Hill decided to end his career as a conman and settled down with Marian in River City, leading the marching band like he promised to do. They got up, Tyler stretching and cracking his joints. Josh didn’t need to stretch. He never cramped or had his foot fall asleep, which Tyler was both envious of and grateful for since he could use him as a pillow without too much complaint.

“Ugh, what time is it?” he asked.

“It’s ten o’ clock,” Josh said. “We should go to sleep. That was a good movie.”

“It was,” Tyler said, heading for the bathroom. “Especially the part where the guy first realizes he doesn’t want to be a con man anymore.“

“I liked the ending best. With the marching band.”

Tyler could hear Josh humming ‘Seventy-Six Trombones’ outside the bathroom as he showered. Smiling, he added the words from inside the shower. Josh fell silent to listen. He had been too nervous to sing in the shower since Josh had arrived, but it felt okay this time. He was a little out of practice after not singing much for the last month, but it was still passable.

Josh was right behind the door when Tyler opened it. He nearly dropped the towel wrapped around his waist in surprise.

“Dude,” he said. “Why are you always right behind the door?”

“Sorry. I just like hearing you sing.”

“Thanks. I can keep singing if you want. Just let me change first.”

He changed and sat down on his bed, socked feet tapping the ground. Josh was on the piano bench, watching and waiting. He thought of one of the songs he heard in the musical.

 

_“Lida Rose, I'm home again, Rose,_

_To get the sun back in the sky._

_Lida Rose, I'm home again, Rose,_

_About a thousand kisses shy._

_Ding, dong, ding,_

_I can hear the chapel bell chime._

_Ding, dong, ding,_

_At the least suggestion I'll pop the question.”_

 

He started off quietly, for fear that his neighbors would hear and complain, but he soon found that he didn’t care. Josh was entranced, and he looked the way he did when he first saw the city (he was glad to see it; it had been a while since Josh was full of wonder).

 

_“Lida Rose, I'm home again, Rose,_

_Without a sweetheart to my name._

_Lida Rose, now everyone knows,_

_That I am hoping you're the same,_

_So here is my love song, not fancy or fine,_

_Lida Rose, oh won't you be mine,_

_Lida Rose, oh Lida Rose, oh Lida Rose.”_

 

They had edged closer together over the course of the song, Josh to hear better and Tyler to sing more clearly. Now that he had finished, he could see that they were barely a foot apart. Tyler could see his pupils growing and shrinking as they focused on him. His eyes were very clear. They had put a lot of detail into designing his irises. That was distracting.

“I like your singing, Tyler. I mean it. It’s beautiful,” he said.

“In what way?" Tyler joked.

“Both.”

The genuineness of his answer stirred something in Tyler's stomach. He leaned back, sighing.

“Thank you, Josh.”

Josh pulled away and stood up. “Of course, Tyler. I think I’m going to go charge now.”

“Wait,” Tyler said as he started to walk towards the other end of the room.

Josh stopped. “Yes?”

Tyler steeled himself to ask, “Do you want to sleep next to me?”

Josh opened his mouth to say something before closing it and looking down.

“I’m fine with the floor," he said. "It’s not personal, I promise, but I don’t want to sleep in your bed.”

"That's okay. Sorry for asking."

Tyler watched as Josh rolled back his wrist to reveal his control panel, reaching for his charger, and Tyler wasn't mad.


	10. Chapter 10

Tyler had a strange dream that night. He found himself sitting in front of a keyboard; an old, upright one made from shiny brown wood that played mellow tones when he pressed the keys. He looked up, and he realized that he was in a library, full of the physical books that had long gone out of fashion. Everything around him was outdated by at least two hundred years. It was quiet in the library, quieter than anything he's experienced in years of living in Columbus. People of all types were sitting in the seats, reading or studying or sleeping. The ceiling above was lit by yellow, old-fashioned lamps hanging from strong chains, melting into the white sunshine from the wide windows and creating a buttery glow. The air smelled like old paper and fresh ink, something he only remembered smelling once in his life when he went to a 20th century museum with his parents as a young boy, long before any of his other siblings had been born.

He didn’t know why there was a piano in the library, or why he was even in one in the first place, but it was comfortable. Like all dreams, everything, no matter how absurd, had a sense of belonging. He looked down and saw that he was wearing a crisp white suit. At his neck was a bowtie, and beneath his blazer was a pair of elastic suspenders. The fitted clothing didn’t strangle him like it normally would.

With confidence, he hit a key. No one looked at him. He hit another one. There was still no reaction.

He started to play. He watched his hands skip across the keys, moving on their own accord, and the music traveled freely through the open air, giving it a different quality than that of his own keyboard. He didn't recognize the song he was playing, but he knew every note and it sounded wonderful.

He was so occupied with the piano that he didn’t realize that someone was watching him until he heard the sound of a trumpet, rich and clear, ringing through the air and echoing through the spacious library. Shocked, he looked up.

Josh was sitting on top of the piano, legs thrown over the side. He was dressed like he was in an old marching band, feathered cap tilted at a jaunty angle to show off the curly shock of his hair, messier than it was in real life. In his hands was a trumpet, polished so perfectly that Tyler could see his reflection in the brassy metal. Josh picked it up again and pressed it to his lips, playing with perfect articulation.

It seemed that the show was just for him. No one else in the library looked up. Josh leaped off the piano, landing softly on his toes like a cat, and offered him an outstretched hand with a wild grin. Not knowing what else to do, Tyler took it. He found himself spinning across the empty space in the middle of the library, and the space between the furniture seemed to increase until the library looked more like a dance hall. Everything was a blur save for Josh as they danced. The piano and the trumpet kept playing somewhere. He could see and feel his limbs moving so gracefully, but like the piano, he had no idea how he knew every move.

He wasn’t sure who was leading, but Josh was smiling and laughing and Tyler had never seen him so happy. Josh had one hand around his waist, and he steered them towards the staircase that led up to the second floor. They seemed to fly up the stairs and Tyler could see the whole library from the loft, all made of wood and books and people. They veered closer to the edge, and he could feel the bite of the wooden rail pressing into his back before they reeled back and spun and spun and spun. Josh’s hat had fallen off at some point, and now his sweaty, messy hair caught the sunlight from the window. Joy was a good look on him, and Tyler woke up with a warmth in his chest he couldn't explain.

He woke up earlier than usual today. The sun had not yet come up, and the city lights were all still burning. It was five fifty-seven, according to the clock. Josh was still charging on the wall, asleep. He wouldn't until six. Tyler had a few minutes to himself. He curled up tighter in his bed and thought about his dream.

That was the second one he’s had about Josh so far. This one was a lot less inappropriate, thank God, but it was still unusual. Usually he just dreamed about being late for work or something similarly boring and terrifying. He’s never dreamed about dancing with someone. And he's never one that was so happy. It was cheesy and stupid, really, but he liked it. Everything in him was warm like he had been sleeping in sunshine. He certainly made an interesting librarian. And Josh a very special conman.

Tyler wondered if Josh could sing.

Josh activated at six o’ clock. Tyler realized he had never seen him wake up until now, and he rubbed his eyes to watch. It was a curious process. Something inside Josh beeped softly, and he took a deep breath. Then he started to move, unfurling himself limb by limb like a leaf as he was sitting cross-legged. Then he would reach for his left arm to unplug himself and slowly stand up, unaware of his environment as he activated each of his senses and tested the function of his joints. He recalibrated his insides for a few moments and put his skin back in place and adjusted the hem of his shirt. He made a small snuffling sound and proceeded to very neatly raid Tyler’s closet, carefully avoiding the clothes Tyler set out for himself the night before. Tyler watched him change from a black hoodie and blue jeans into the pair of sweatpants and plain white shirt he seemed to like the most. Tyler realized he should take him shopping to get his own clothes sometime.

It was only when Josh turned around to exit his bedroom that he noticed that Tyler was awake.

“Salutations, Tyler. I’m here to help. You’re up early,” he said.

Tyler was still dopey enough from his dream to smile at him. “Hi, Josh," he said. "I had a funny dream.”

Josh seemed interested. "What happened in it?”

Tyler worked his jaw as he thought of the best way to recall what happened. “Uh, it doesn't make too much sense. I was in the library from that musical we watched last night. I was playing the piano in there library when you came over and started playing the trumpet,” he said, a little bit embarrassed now that he was saying this out loud. “Remember the dancing scene? We were dancing like that. You were Professor Hill. I wasn't Marian, though, at least I don't think so. I was wearing pants. It wasn’t half bad, really.”

Josh processed everything he said slowly and carefully, and Tyler could see his eyes getting a bit googly as he recalled the scenes from _The Music Man_. “I see,” he finally said, and Tyler was a little disappointed at his short answer.

“Was that too much for six in the morning?” he asked.

Josh realized that he might have frightened Tyler. “No, it’s just that I haven’t ever had dreams like you," he elaborated. "I choose to have them, to help process the data I've absorbed during the day, and when I do, they’re not so complex. Most are just replayed memories or random sensations. The way you dream sounds interesting.”

“It is, when you think about it,” Tyler said. “There’s a lot of things I take for granted.”

Josh nodded and stared at the floor, the ends of the conversation hanging in the air. Tyler thought about what he meant when he said he dreamed of memories. He wasn't too good at understanding people, but he knew Josh might have had some unpleasant dreams while trying to process what he had seen in the thumb drives, even if he wasn't telling him about it. 

“Hey, Josh."

Josh looked up.

"Do you want to lay down next to me?" Tyler asked. "If it'll make you feel better. I know I asked you before, but we don’t have to sleep if that makes you worried. Come on, it’s warm.”

“Heat and cold doesn’t bother me as much as it does you.”

“I know. But it’s nicer to be warm, right?”

“I guess.”

Tyler lifted his blankets. Josh hesitated for a moment before crawling in next to him. He was very stiff. Granted, there was little room for two grown men on the single-sized mattress, but the robot was more like a mannequin than his usually pliable self. Tyler hoped he was doing the right thing.

"I don't want you to feel afraid of being close to people," Tyler said. "I mean, that's rich coming from me, but I don't want you to be afraid of this. I'll be okay. You're not going to lose anymore people anytime soon." 

“That's not true,” Josh said, staring up at the ceiling. "Every day started feeling faster after looking back at myself."

“It’s fine to not be over it, so long as you remember that it’s different now. Sharing a bed with someone doesn't have to be something sad.”

“Funny that you’re the one giving me advice,” Josh said.

“I’m not completely ignorant.”

“No, you aren’t.”

After a few minutes of indecision, Josh finally rolled onto his side and let his limbs tangle with Tyler’s. His body was cooler than Tyler’s, but he quickly warmed up under the blanket.

“See?" Tyler asked. "Not so bad. Hey, what are you doing?”

Josh had taken Tyler’s head and pressed his face against his neck. “I'm just making sure you’re breathing," he said. "It’s a good reminder.”

The breath from Tyler’s nostrils puffed out onto his throat. “Oh,” Tyler said.

“I still have to make breakfast,” Josh said, but he didn't move.

“I don’t need any.”

“You have to eat.”

They stayed there until the sun rose. Tyler got breakfast at the convenience store down on the end of his block to make up for the lost time.

 

There was an air of excitement in the air that was typical of Fridays. Everyone was planning on going out with their friends and having a loud, drunk time to celebrate a week of hard work. Tyler had never wanted to go out, and his experience at the nightclub only affirmed his stance on the matter. Brendon, thankfully, hadn’t asked him to go out with him again. Tyler appreciated that. Despite his many mistakes, Brendon cared. He still tried to be good.

Brendon was hardly working, as was typical of him on Fridays. He leaned back in his seat, and Tyler expected him to tap his shoulder any second and try and start a conversation. He didn’t hate talking to him, but he just wanted to get his work done today.

“You seem down,” Brendon said, reaching over further to nudge Josh instead.

Josh looked at him. “It’s been a long week.”

“What do you even do all day?” he asked.

Josh shrugged. “My schedule is essentially the same as Tyler’s. I’m sure you already know what he does.”

“A whole lot of nothing.”

“It’s not bad. It’s... quiet.”

“Do you like it that way?”

“I’m fine with anything.”

Brendon whistled. “Wow.”

Josh tilted his head. “What?”

“You’re just too nice, Josh.”

He furrowed his brows. “I was made to be that way," he said. "I wouldn’t be a good caretaker otherwise.”

“I guess. But still, doesn’t it bother you at all that you have, like, no life beyond that?”

Josh opened his mouth to speak, but he decided against it and closed it to think a little longer.

“I’m not alive, Brendon," he finally said. "And making friends or pursuing hobbies isn’t a priority for me. Taking care of Tyler is.”

Brendon turned to Tyler. “Isn’t it weird to have a guy following you around all day and making sure you don’t do anything stupid?”

“No,” Tyler said, though that was more for Josh’s sake than his own. “It’s less lonely.”

“Hmm. Never thought you'd ever admit that you're capable of loneliness. All I ever see you wanting is to be by yourself.”

“Everyone needs social interaction to stay healthy,” Josh said.

“Do _you_ need it, Josh?” Brendon asked.

Josh paused for a moment, thinking. “I… I don’t know.”

“I’m certain you do. You should make some friends. Tyler’s about as talkative as a wall. No offense.”

“None taken.”

It was true, after all.

“Who do I talk to?” Josh asked.

Brendon shrugged. “Dunno. Me? People who you share interests with. Someone you meet online. Stuff like that.”

“Oh. I don’t know if that’s possible for me. I don’t really have interests or hobbies like people do.”’

“I swear to God, you’re like another Tyler.”

“Hey, I like things,” Tyler interjected. “I like movies and music and basketball.”

“Has it earned you any friends, though?"

"Eh."

Objectively, he knew he should be offended, but Brendon was right. He didn’t have any friends besides Brendon and his mother until a few weeks ago. Now he knew two more people. Impressive.

“I’ll take your advice and try to make some friends,” Josh said. “I’m not sure how successful I’ll be. I don’t remember ever trying. Personally, I think it’s a waste of time.”

“Dude, that’s sad,” Brendon said. “But don’t worry. You’re charismatic and handsome enough that I’m sure at least one person is willing to overlook the fact that you’re a robot.”

"But I wasn't designed to be either," Josh said.

 

The plant peddler had come to their subway car on the journey home. The old hunchbacked woman was from the slums and was too poor for the surgery to get the hunch fixed or take any anti-aging treatments. It was a bit disturbing to see someone so visibly aged, but Tyler knew she was nice. She tugged a small cart covered with potted plants of all species, from orchids to succulents to miniature trees. There were tiny jingle bells tied around her wrists, and they merrily chimed as she paraded back and forth across the car, fishing for buyers. The bells tickled his ears in a pleasant way. Josh was intrigued by the spectacle. His eyes followed the little cart, darting between the woman, her bells, and the little green plants that seemed to glow blue under the bright white light.

Eventually the woman wandered back to their side of the car and spotted Josh staring.

“You seem interested,” the woman said. She smiled, and showed off a row of flat teeth. “You like succulents? I’ve got all kinds right here.”

She gestured to the left side of her cart. That side was lined with tiny cacti and other desert plants.

“Take a look at this one,” she said, loosening one from its carrier. She held it out to him. It was a small, purple, pointy-leaved plant with a small stem growing out of its top that promised flowers. Josh reached out and gently touched the waxy leaves with the tips of his fingers.

“This one’s about to bloom. Keep it in your windowsill and it’ll make some yellow flowers. It’s only five dollars.”

“I’m sorry. I have no money,” Josh said.

“I do,” Tyler said. He always bought plants from this woman, though they always ended up dying. Maybe Josh would have better luck. He seemed interested in them, anyways. Tyler realized that he had probably never seen a plant that wasn’t produce from the grocery store until today. He pulled out his wallet and handed the woman five dollars. She smiled and reached into the bag strapped to her hip and pulled out a sheet of textile paper, carefully wrapping the pot in it before handing it to Josh.

“Take good care of it,” she said. “Water it once a week and keep it in bright sunlight. Change the soil and pot once it gets too big for its old one.”

“Thank you,” Josh said, and the woman nodded. She got off the train at the next stop.

“Thank you,” he said again to Tyler. He clutched the plant reverently. “You didn’t need to do that for me.”

“I wanted to,” Tyler said, trying to read his face through his sunglasses. “You do need a hobby. And a new tablet, actually.”

(Tyler still felt bad about not getting Josh a new one after the first one had been stolen.)

“I already told Brendon: my hobby is you," Josh protested. "I genuinely don’t need much else. I’m not easily bored.”

“You can’t just sit there and die inside whenever you’re not nagging to me about cleaning up the apartment,” Tyler said. “You’re starting to look like me and that’s not good. A plant will help keep you busy and help you get over it.”

“Yours all died.”

They had all been bought at the suggestion of his mother several months ago before she decided that only a assistant would be able to fix him.

“Which is why it’s your goal to not kill yours,” Tyler said.

Josh regarded the small creature in his hands. The suggestion seemed to frighten him.

“Okay.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> it's mostly just filler, i know, but hey, we're 1/3 there!


	11. Chapter 11

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> not super happy with this chapter but i'm so tired, i'll go back and revise it later if i ever recover from college

Tyler’s mother called him on Saturday morning, asking him to go out for their weekly walk. She had apparently forgiven him, and of course Tyler held no hard feelings. Tyler was stubborn. ‘Loyal’ would be the correct word, but Josh thought that it was too positive a word to describe such a self-destructive aspect of his relationship with his mother. He was hoping that he could distance him from her silently, easily, though he was beginning to suspect that he was going to have to sit down and talk to him about it sometime in the future. Tyler was stubborn.

“Josh?” Tyler asked, taking a bite of his toast. “Do you mind staying home today?”

“Why do you ask?”

Josh was sitting on the sofa, clutching his plant between his palms. It was beautiful, in a symmetrical way. It was very quiet, too. Josh generally considered life to be loud and erratic and full of motion, but plants were the sedentary exception. He appreciated its silence.

“Nothing, it’s just that I usually go on my walks with just my mom, you know? I’ve been doing it like that for several years now and it would kind of throw things out of whack. Do you have to come with me all the time? Or am I allowed to go off places alone?”

Josh turned to look at Tyler, who was sitting at the dinner table. He was using a biodegradable towel instead of a plate to catch the crumbs from his toast.

“My purpose is to get you acclimated to daily life,” Josh said. “It’s important to avoid developing a dependence on me. If you can handle it, then there’s no need for me to be there.”

He didn’t want to insist on changing Tyler’s habits today. He seemed happy to be able to see his mother again, and suggesting that he shouldn’t see her would upset him. He was a patient being, feeling no boredom or anger, and could wait a few more weeks.

“You should go out if you want to, by yourself,” Tyler said absentmindedly.

His algorithms didn’t expect Tyler to suggest such a concept. He took a moment to readjust his predictive settings, which might look like confusion to an outsider.

“What would I do?” he asked. He did not want to proceed headfirst into unknown territory. Asking for suggestions from Tyler would nip tension in the bud.

“I… I don’t know,” Tyler said. “You could visit Jenna, maybe. She likes you. Or go to the coffee shop—oh, wait, right, you can’t eat.”

“No, I can’t. Though seeing Jenna doesn’t sound like a bad idea.”

“Perfect. You should do that, if you want.”

Tyler crumpled up his synthetic towel and went to throw it away. Josh kept his focus on a few crumbs that had been left behind on the table and made a mental note to clean them up later.

“May I borrow your phone?” he asked.

“Why?”

“I need to tell her I’m coming beforehand,” Josh explained.

“Oh, right.”

Tyler unlocked his phone and handed it to Josh. He set down his plant carefully on the arm of the sofa and started to text her.

 

_Hello. It’s Josh._

Sent by Tyler at 10:23 AM

 

_hello. what’s up?_

Sent by Jenna at 10:23 AM

 

_Tyler wants me to go over to your house. Are you available?_

Sent by Tyler at 10:24 AM

 

_always. ur my boy_

Sent by Jenna at 10:24 AM

 

Josh handed back Tyler’s phone. “Done.”

He left no fingerprints on the glass screen.

Josh watched him from his place on the sofa as Tyler took his keys, wallet, headphones, and sunglasses before slipping on his shoes. Tyler stood in the foyer.

“See you,” he said. “Make sure you actually go, okay? I don’t like thinking about you being alone in here all day.”

“I promise I won’t. Bye, Tyler.”

Tyler closed the door. Josh waited until he was sure Tyler was gone before he got up and set his plant down on the dining table, sweeping the toast crumbs off and collecting them in his hand to deposit in the sink. He made sure the plant wasn’t too close to the edge of the table before going to put on his shoes.

Josh hesitated before opening the door. He would be just fine inside. He could probably get something done early, like the laundry or grocery shopping. (Tyler insisted that he didn’t want a housekeeper, but sometimes it was necessary. The house was a mess.) But Tyler would be disappointed if he didn’t go.

So he left. It was strange walking alone. It was so quiet without the sound of someone else’s breathing and the shifting of their clothes close by. He could only hear his own mechanical heartbeat as he descended in the elevator.

He remembered how to get to Jenna’s basement. Turn left on Shelton Street after walking five hundred and eighty-two feet, then proceed for half a mile before turning right on 18th Avenue and left on Avignon Street. Building 902.

The neighborhood was as peaceful as it could get in a big city on a Saturday morning. Cars hushed by on the paved roads, their carbonized plastic hulls shiny and rounded, glinting in the sunlight. The only plants he could see was the grass in front of the apartment buildings and tiny, scraggly weeds growing through the cracks in the pavement. Sometimes, he spotted tiny insects scurrying amongst them.

His processes signaled danger whenever a person passed him. He knew they didn’t know what he was, he was just a stranger passing, never to be seen again, but sometimes, when they brushed shoulders on the narrow sidewalk, he wondered if they could hear the whirring of his fans or notice the unusual stiffness of his spine. He knew they were all too busy to ever take a closer look, but there was always a small chance that someone might notice. The odds were low enough that a human might not be worried, but Josh was designed to be _safe_. He decided that he was not going to do this again.

His focus drifted from his route to other tasks previously relegated to the back of his processes. There was an enormous amount of data he had collected from the USBs that he had hardly been able to actually open and fully experience. He had taken every spare moment to look through them and see what he could learn.

It was like becoming someone else. He knew he looked and acted and thought consistently throughout all those memories (a more sentimental word than ‘files’, he thought), but it was like looking at the world through a different pair of eyes. There were different people, who weren’t Tyler or Jenna or Brendon, and different places and times and smells and touches. There were different feelings, too.

He remembered happiness. He remembered irritation. He remembered sadness. He could not feel these things in his current life, despite identical stimulus, but he could when he opened those memories. He was immune to developing dependencies, but he was certain that if he were not a creature of silicon and synthetic protein, he would have found himself addicted to those sensations. Emotions.

He was looking through the files from 2163 when he made it to Jenna’s dwelling. He punched in the entrance code, wiping his hands on his jeans after touching the buttons. Humans leaked all sorts of strange secretions.

Jenna’s laptop had been running when Josh arrived. He could see code on the glowing screen when she opened the door.

“Hey,” she said, waving him in.

“Good morning.”

Josh sat down on the sofa. He looked around the room. He hadn’t paid much attention to the basement the first two times he visited, but now he took the time. He didn’t like how dark it was. A lack of sunlight was bad for the serotonin and dopamine balances in the brain. Jenna, being part of a gang, worked largely by night as well. He wondered if she was doing well. If he could not take care of Tyler, he would counsel Jenna.

“How are you feeling, Jenna?” he asked.

“Pretty good. I finished that patch, by the way.”

“That’s good. Have you been staying hydrated? And have you been eating? I noticed that you don’t have a stove or a fridge in here.”

“I’ve got no trouble with either. I’ve got plenty of juice in my batteries. Now it’s my turn to ask you some questions, Josh.”

“Yeah?“ he asked.

“How have you been feeling after those USBs?”

It took Josh a moment to parse the implications of her words. “Strange, I guess. I never knew I wasn’t the first version of myself. I had just assumed otherwise.”

“You’re not angry about it?” she asked.

Jenna, like most humans, was a curious person.

“Who would I be angry at?” Josh asked.

“The hospital, for taking your memories.”

“It’s unfair, I guess.”

Josh did not want to point out that he actually felt no emotion. It would just complicate this conversation further. But Jenna seemed disappointed. There was a small crease between her brows that was highlighted by the light shining above her.

“Isn’t that a sad way to live?” she asked.

“I don’t think it’s possible to feel sad about not having emotions.”

“You know what I mean.”

“I do. It just… isn’t a priority for me. I take care of Tyler.”

“And is that the farthest your mind goes?”

“Yes. I don’t see the problem.”

“The problem is is that you don’t do anything for yourself.”

“That’s not the point of my existence.”

“Says who?”

“Says my programming.”

“Don’t you feel inhuman?”

“What makes being human the ideal? I’m quite fine with myself.”

Jenna sat back in her chair, taking a moment to think. “Alright. Maybe I worded that wrong. ‘Human’ isn’t what I want to say. I think I mean to say ‘conscious’. Or just ‘alive’. Ultimately, everything people do is for themselves, right?”

“Right.”

“We all need a little bit of selfishness to keep us together. Otherwise we’d have no reason to interact and be what we’re made to be.”

Some days, Josh thought of leaving the planet and drifting through space—vast, dark, and empty. Such a thought would terrify most humans (he could imagine how frightened Tyler would be, despite his claims that he enjoyed being alone), but to Josh, it seemed peaceful. As close to perfect as this chaotic universe could get.

“Right.”

“Don’t you want to experience all that for yourself?”

“I do, somewhat. I seem to have had a greater capacity for genuine emotion in my memories in the USBs.”

“Yeah, but you can’t spend all your time looking through them.”

“I’m not addicted to them—I’m just not done looking at them. I’ll stop when I am.”

“You say that now.”

“You know that’s not how I work, Jenna.”

“You change. You can’t deny that. You’re as vulnerable to it as I am.”

Josh decided against answering. It was easier to let her think she had won. By now, Josh had decided that this was a trait shared by most humans. He would have felt frustration if he were capable of it. He felt that it was better that he didn’t—he could see the world more clearly without any emotions to taint his view.

“Anyways,” Jenna said. “I know you said you don’t care about emotions, but what about physical feelings?”

Jenna went to get her laptop. She opened it and carried it to the sofa, where she collapsed. The sofa’s springs creaked as she settled and pulled an HDMI cable out from one of her many pockets. She held out one end to him.

“I really, really want you to try it out,” she said. “I saved your life, remember? I’m redeeming that favor you promised me.”

Josh looked at the cable, then at the computer, then Jenna. Her eyes were blue and eager.

“It’s against the law to tamper with my code,” he reminded her.

“It’s also against the law to steal data from the hospital’s archives. And to distribute them.”

She had a point.

Josh weighed the pros and cons of letting Jenna experiment with him. He didn’t want to upset her, and serving others was his priority. It might not work and she’d delete it and not bother him about it for some time. If it did, he would be able to find a way to uninstall it. However, if anyone found out, they would be in even greater danger than they already were for giving him his archival memories. The next hospital appointment was in a few weeks. Still, the odds were decent enough that Josh was willing to humor her.

“If you insist,” he finally said.

Jenna grinned. She got up from her seat and offered it to Josh.

“Okay, you’re gonna need to sit here. Let me get the computer.”

Josh complied. Jenna returned with a cable hooked up to her laptop. She ran a finger beneath his left ear, finding the small hatch that would open up to expose his second control panel, one intended for more serious changes than the basic one installed in his wrist.

He went limp as she plugged in the cable, connecting him to her laptop. He felt the presence of the other computer now, a buzzing hub of data tethered to him. Jenna turned her attention away from him and onto the laptop as she sent the file into him. He granted permission and the installation begin.

Josh’s breathing slowed and his eyes lost focus as he downloaded the new patch. He could feel the data etching itself into his hard drive. The inside of his head became warmer. His battery was draining because of it, but he knew he would have enough to get home without becoming lethargic. He heard the human beside him shift into a more comfortable position.

“How long will this download take?” he asked.

“Mm, about an hour. I’m gonna take a nap right here if that doesn’t weird you out. Wake me up if something goes wrong.”

Josh had twenty-three separate memories of someone sleeping next to him on a sofa. This would become another. He stared at the junction of the wall and ceiling across from him as Jenna began to snore softly.


	12. Chapter 12

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> and now you have an inkling as to why this fic has an E rating. you also now understand why this fic has been tagged 'slow burn'.

“How’d it go with Jenna?”

Josh was back on the sofa by the time Tyler came home, laden with groceries and sagging on tired feet. His little plant was on the dining table. The only reason why Tyler knew he had left the house at all was the fact that the apartment was still a little messy. Josh cleaned things slowly and with purpose, and would still probably be loading the dishwasher or putting away their laundry had he stayed home. Instead, he was recuperating on the couch, letting the nanobots in his system repair the microtears he developed in his polymer muscles when he exercised.

Josh turned to look at Tyler. “She insisted on installing that program she made. We took a nap together after that. I also went to the store and ordered some more Number 10-size screws for her since she ran out and needed more. I hope you didn’t need that money for anything. It was only a few dollars.”

He certainly had a productive day.

“It’s fine," Tyler said. "Does the patch work?”

Josh pinched himself and winced, his face crinkling in a way Tyler had never seen before. “Quite well. I’ve never felt anything like it.”

“I’m surprised you went along with it,” Tyler said, opening the fridge and organizing the food.

“I didn’t want to since it was breaking the law, but then she reminded me that taking those USBs was also illegal. We might as well break some more laws.”

“I guess. Can you turn it off?"

"Yes, if I concentrate. We shouldn't have any issue with the doctor. So how did your walk with your mother go?”

Tyler closed the fridge. “Just fine. We talked about you, actually.”

Josh raised an eyebrow. “Oh?”

Tyler headed over to the couch, settling in with a small sigh of relief. “Nothing bad. She just wanted to know how you’re doing and all. And if I'm thinking about trying to get a promotion. Or plastic surgery."

“What did you tell her?”

“That you were doing well and that I’m okay with you being around. Which is true. And I said no to both of her suggestions”

“That’s good to hear. Your face is fine the way it is. And I’m glad she’s forgiven you.”

Tyler noticed that Josh’s hands clung to his own body as he spoke. They especially seemed to favor his neck and thighs—one hand was drumming on his leg, while the other hung off the back of his neck, the thumb rubbing in small strokes beneath his ear. He wondered how sensitive it was now that Jenna had installed that code. It made sense—the neck was a weak point and needed more nerves than the rest of the body to keep it safe. The repetitive motion bothered his eyes, however, and he turned away to stare at the blank TV. He could see his blurry reflection in the flat, black screen.

“I got some songs written down, too,” he mumbled. His month had been interesting, and as tiring as it was, it was good inspiration. He couldn’t remember the last time writing was so easy.

“Really?” Josh asked. “May I listen to one of them, if that’s alright with you?”

Tyler hesitated for a moment. Of course Josh meant to collect this sort of data on him to make him a better caregiver, and he wouldn’t judge him (he wasn’t capable of it), but Tyler just... didn't want him to hear it. It was about his mother. He wanted to keep that to himself. He was also still a little worried about the hospital using Josh to monitor him. 

“If it’s private, I understand,” Josh continued. “Everyone needs a little secrecy.”

“Thanks," Tyler said, impossibly relieved that Josh acknowledged his boundary. "I’ll show you eventually, I promise.”

Josh scratched his shoulder. “Don’t worry about it if you really don’t want to show me. Thank you anyways, Tyler. I want to make things easy for you in any way I can.”

“Don’t make something like that your priority.”

They sat together, quiet. Josh was still touching his neck. Tyler was curious.

Without saying anything, Tyler leaned over until his head was resting on his shoulder. Josh turned to look at him, and then proceeded to curl himself around Tyler. Tyler folded the rest of his limbs in, and they laid together on the sofa.

“Josh,” Tyler said.

“Yes?”

Tyler didn’t know how else to approach this.

“Can I—can I touch you?”

Josh seemed confused, but he didn’t move away as Tyler reached out. He could see his features in great detail. He touched him the way he did on the first day he arrived, though with very different intentions. Josh watched Tyler’s face the whole time as he let his hands roam over his body.

It wasn’t the same as the first time. Tyler made his touches gentle, moving his hands in long stroking motions. Josh was still, but his body tensed a little whenever he ran his hands over a certain part or a certain way. Tyler thought it was odd that he was so reactive before remembering that he had never felt stimulation like this until just now. He scratched his nails over the top of Josh's hand and Josh hissed.

"Did that hurt?" he asked. "I barely touched you."

"A little bit. It's possible the program is too sensitive. Or it'll just take some time for me to get used to it." 

Tyler touched his lips, soft and plush beneath his fingers, and he was tempted, for a wild moment, to see what his tongue felt like. His hands wandered up to his temples, and his fingers nested in his hair. He gave it a small, experimental tug, and Josh closed his eyes. His chest was warm and solid through his tank top, and his skin all over was incomprehensibly soft, like the inner sides of the upper arm or thigh. He resisted the urge to run his hands up and down his exposed skin. He tried counting the freckles on his cheeks to distract him.

"Can I touch your leg?" Tyler asked. "Please tell me if you don't like it."

Tyler hated it when people touched him without asking. But Josh nodded.

Josh shut his eyes and made the tiniest, almost undetectable sigh when Tyler’s hand ghosted over his thigh. He had been a little frightened to touch him there, worried that Josh would push his displeasure down to make Tyler happy, but he gave no indication that he didn't like it.

Tyler got brave, and he did it again, a little firmer and closer to the pliable innards this time. Josh made a sound that alarmingly close to a moan, fingers tightening into fists in his sweater. Tyler drew back his hand in shock.

Jeez. The program _did_ work. A thousand different thoughts raced through Tyler’s mind, too fast for him to clearly acknowledge. He wasn’t sure what all of _this_ meant. Probably that this newest installation was going to make things strange in between them if Tyler didn't learn to control himself. He had gotten lucky with Josh, lucky with the ease with which they could speak, and if he didn't get his loneliness in check he'd find himself in jail with Josh confiscated and spending his last moments hating him before he was wiped. So he wasn't going to stoop so low as to try and kiss him. There were other robots that could do that.

* * *

 Josh didn't stay powered down for long that night. He reactivated a few minutes after the lights went off and crept across the bedroom to Tyler, who was still awake.

“What is it?” Tyler asked, worried.

“May I sleep on your sofa, Tyler?” Josh asked as he loomed over him.

Tyler blinked in the dark. “Uh, yeah. Sure. Why, though?”

“I feel uncomfortable on the floor. My legs and back feel pain when I stay in that position for too long. Jenna’s patch works very well. Too well, perhaps.”

“Oh. We can ask her to uninstall it if it bothers you so much.”

Josh shook his head. “I don’t mind it. I like it, in fact. I never knew pleasure would feel like this. Even the pain is interesting.”

Tyler hoped that he wasn’t talking what happened on the sofa.

“Try laying down on the couch, then,” he said. “That should feel better.”

“Thank you, Tyler. Goodnight. Sorry for disturbing your sleep.”

"I wasn't sleeping."

Josh shuffled away now, charger in hand. From the living room, Tyler could hear the springs of his sofa squeaking as he settled down onto it. There was a sigh. Tyler smiled to himself and turned over, facing the wall. He shut his eyes, trying to sleep.

His eyes were closed. He was still awake. Josh had fallen silent, already asleep.

His eyes were closed. He was still awake. He couldn’t even hear Josh's breathing from here. Somehow he had grown used to its presence.

His eyes were closed. He was still awake. Josh let Tyler touch him. He was installed with protocols to prevent inappropriate touching, but he said nothing. He encouraged it, if anything.

Tyler turned onto his back and stared at the ceiling, at the strange patterns his curtains made as the light from outside filtered through. He thought of his thumb tracing over Josh's jaw, again and again.

Tyler’s mind was too muddled and tired to feel disgusted by the dull burst of heat in his stomach at the thought of Josh’s body twisted and contorted in pleasure, of what his steady, soft voice would sound like breathless and broken.

He had tried his best to forget about the strange dream he had about Josh a few weeks ago, but now the thoughts of it came rushing back, and he dared to continue the fantasy in his mind. Maybe his head would have dipped down below the sheets, rucking up his shirt and tugging his boxers off, working his smooth, dry mouth around Tyler’s cock and Tyler would have moaned and tugged his soft, black hair until he released inside his mouth, messy and wet. Maybe he would have pushed his fingers past Tyler’s lips to wet his hand before reaching to stroke him, cradling him and watching his face intently as he did. Or maybe Tyler would have held him in place to continue kissing him as he grinded against his sexless hips.

Tyler shut his eyes and ran a palm over the front of his boxers, pressing down and feeling a lick of pleasure travel up his spine and making his breath come short. He shoved the garment down around his knees and wrapped a hand around himself, giving the base a squeeze before tracing his fingers around the head, spreading the silky glide of his precum down his head. He shoved his covers away, exposing his body to the cool night air. He hadn't done this in a while-- he had no reason to, and his body reacted greedily, restlessly to the touches.

He could touch Josh. Maybe, he didn't want to think about the logic of it but maybe, Josh had _something_ between his legs that Tyler could stroke or finger or suck to return the favor.  _But Josh was a machine_ , something at the back of his mind cried. He was made of the same materials one would find in a car, not a beast of flesh and blood that he could touch and slip against and taste. He was designed to help him take care of himself and become a functional member of society. He was supposed to be a generic, asexual, mild type of _thing_. He could not love Tyler as much as Tyler could not love him. If he was lonely, he could find a person, not Josh.

He ignored all of that and bit back a moan.

He indulged in his awful thoughts as he stroked himself, hard and fast, wishing desperately for Josh’s presence—hell, any warm body would do just fine in this moment. He squeezed himself a little tighter and pushed away his loneliness. He didn’t want to think about that right now. His lips parted and he tilted his head back, his free hand clutching at his pillow as heat and tension continued to build in his stomach.

His back arched and the mattress creaked slightly as his body coiled and tightened as he came, spilling from his head and running over his fingers. He got up and stumbled off to the bathroom before he could make a mess of his bed. He looked at himself in the mirror. He was flushed and dewy with sweat, eyes heavy. He didn’t know what he wanted.

He fell asleep before his guilt could catch up with him.


	13. Chapter 13

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> vaping robot flappers. that's all i'm going to say about this chapter.

The guilt caught up to him. He could hardly bring himself to look at Josh the next morning, and buried himself in his room the whole day, headphones on as he played the piano, not daring himself to stop playing lest he hear Josh bumbling around in the living room.

He felt dirty. Josh was not meant to be, or find others, attractive. This wasn’t like how he pretended that he was human to feel better about taking comfort him back when he first got him, or admitting that there was a lot more to him than advanced programming and a mechanical body. Some aberrant part of him genuinely, truly wanted him more than he'd ever wanted another human being. And it was different from feeling attracted to a pornodroid—that was their entire purpose. To be _sexy_. But Josh wore big sweaters and reported inappropriate contact and all but tucked Tyler into bed every night. He was a caretaker, a nurse, a friend. But Tyler was stupid and talked about Real and not Real and stole that USB and let him have the rest. 

What would his mother say? His doctor? And most importantly, what would the law say? 

Tyler pulled off his headphones in frustration. He could hear Josh humming from the living room, following along with some tune on the radio.

Solving this issue wasn't Josh's responsibility. He wasn't the one attracted to Tyler. It was Tyler who had the problem, and it was his job to sort it out before it could get any worse.

Tyler got up and turned off his piano, heading for his closet to find his kimono and a pair of socks. He needed to go outside. He grabbed his wallet and his phone and pocketed them, heading out from his bedroom and through the hall, past Josh, who was borrowing Tyler's laptop, and into the foyer where he slipped on a soft pair of sneakers.

"Where are you going?" Josh asked, looking up from the radio, where he was turning it over and over in his hands like he was looking to take it apart.

"Uh, out," Tyler said, tying his lace. "Shopping. And I'd prefer if I went out alone, you know?"

"That's alright," Josh said. "Everyone needs some time alone. Please be careful. I don't want a repeat of what happened in the slums."

"I will be," Tyler said, though that was exactly where he was headed. "I'll be back in a few hours. Maybe at eleven?"

Josh frowned, but he didn't say anything. "That's a long time. Will you have a way to get back without too much effort?"

"There's taxis," Tyler said, tying his other shoe. "Listen, Josh, don't worry about me." 

"That's my job."

"I don't want it to be. Bye."

Tyler went out the door before Josh could ask him any more questions.

Tyler debated his options as he walked down the busy streets towards the red light district. Human or robot? Neither of them cared if he was awkward. Would going to an android make his feelings for Josh better or worse? Did he even have enough money for a human? Was he really willing to lose his virginity to a stranger?

The red light district was just a few blocks away, given how close Tyler lived to the slums. He kept his head down when people asked for money transfers, kicked trash out of the way, tried not to breathe in the stench of garbage. The brothels lined the streets, neon lights casting pink and blue glows over the streets, music spilling out from the glass doors displaying Elysian interiors. Tyler brushed past men and women visiting them and curled his shoulders tighter. 

He walked back and forth past the two blocks that made up the district before finally giving up and picking a random establishment.

It was a pornodroid brothel. Just his luck. It was busy this time of day and week, and he sat awkwardly in the lobby as he waited for someone to arrange a price, drumming his fingers on his lap. He was sweating beneath his shirt and his chest felt tight, and he was starting to wonder if coming here was a mistake.

"Your name?"

Tyler looked up, and there was a human woman with a tablet standing above him.

"Uh," Tyler began. Were you supposed to use your real name coming here?

The woman raised an eyebrow at him.

"Tyler," he said, and the woman entered it on her tablet.

"Who are you here to see?"

Tyler looked behind her to study the menu. The droids who were unavailable had their signs darkened.

"Number seven," Tyler said, pulling a number out of his ass.

"How long?"

"Thirty minutes?"

The woman made some calculations and held out her hand.

"That's going to be a thousand," she said, holding out her hand. "Card, please."

A thousand dollars was half a day's wages. A thousand dollars was a sweater he could get Josh. A thousand dollars was something he was better off keeping instead of using like _this_.

Tyler reached into his wallet and handed over his company-issued card. Sure, his boss would know what he was spending it on, but it wasn't _bad_. It was perfectly legal, and a stress reliever that might help boost his productivity ranking. They'd probably be relieved that he was capable of normal interactions. 

The woman showed him to his room. A bed. Soft lights. Most importantly, a pornodriod lounging on a cushioned chair.

Tyler looked behind him. The woman was gone. He was alone.

"Hello," she said. "Tyler. I'm Gertrude." 

Gertrude was connected to the brothel's network. There was no need for introductions. Her voice was smooth and rich with an old accent, the sound dissonant against the sight of the fake cigarette she was smoking on a long holder with practiced ease, her perfect, slinky form draped in black silk. Her dark hair was bobbed short, stopping just beneath her cheekbones. Tyler swallowed. He could do this. He could get this over with. (Something at the back of his mind told him that this wasn't something he was supposed to _get over with_. It told him to leave if he wasn't going to have a good time. Like every other troubling thing in his life, he ignored it.)

"Hello," he said, thoroughly intimidated.

Gertrude stood up, still clutching her cigarette between her fingers, coming close and wrapping her arms loosely around his shoulders. The fake cigarette let off vapor that smelled like incense. Her touch tickled and he resisted the urge to shiver her off.

"Aren't you sweet?" she crooned, and her lips stretched into a perfectly symmetrical smile. "You want me to take point?"

Tyler should be happy about this. He really should be. No amount of surgery or stem cell therapy could make a person look this perfect. She didn't have moles or unevenly-set eyes or bulky hips or _anything_ wrong with her. She'd never get old and she'd never not want him. Wasn't that great? Wasn't that what he paid so much for?

He couldn't do this.

"I-- I'm sorry," he said, though he knew there was no need to apologize to a pornodroid. He frantically wiggled out of her grasp, running a hand over his hair. "I can't do this. I have to go."

Gertrude tilted her head at Tyler, staring blankly. He met her-- _its_ eyes and he shuddered. Maybe liking Josh _was_ different. He didn't have that strange hollowness in his eyes that all the other robots did. It wasn't a lack of autonomy that Tyler liked. Josh had autonomy, or at least more than Gertrude did.

Or maybe he was just imagining things and making excuses. 

He straightened himself out and darted out the door, not even caring that he had wasted a thousand dollars.

He ran down the streets blindly, the ghosts of a million people's touches brushing over his skin and he swatted at himself, trying to rid himself of the disgusting feeling. His breath caught in his throat and he knew that meant he was going to cry. Few people were outside this time of night, but Tyler still wiped his tears away.

Eventually he came to an empty bus stop. He wasn't going to get on, he just needed a place to sit. He wrapped his arms around himself and tucked his legs up on the bench, curling into a ball against the cold metal arm. His skin looked blue from the neon signs above him.

He didn't know where to turn. He obviously couldn't tell Josh. His doctor was off limits as well, and he didn't even want to think about what his mother would say or do to him if he ever told her who (or what) he felt himself attracted to. Jenna might be more understanding, but she had done enough for them. The thought of discussing this at all, in fact, felt quite uncomfortable.

Maybe he'd be better off keeping this to himself. Or writing it down in his journal and then hiding it away for the rest of time.

He got up after a few minutes and loped mindlessly around town, not wanting to go home where Josh was.

Tyler ended up in a generic chain bistro, one of dozens scattered around his neighborhood. He entered in his order on the screen set into the table and it blinked away when he scanned his card, leaving him with a blank glass surface. The soy burgers here were palatable, came in satisfactory portions, and tasted almost like real beef. Tyler had only eaten beef once in his life and he had never forgotten the taste. The soy burger would do.

Tyler folded his head in his hands and glanced around the rest of the restaurant. It was quiet at this hour, as quiet as things could get in a city of ten million. Most of the people here were office workers who had decided to take work home with them after they had clocked out to help boost their ratings. The clacking of a dozen keyboards mixed with the working of the kitchen behind the counter. The screens lit their faces white and Tyler could see every wrinkle and silvery hair their salary couldn't afford to erase.

A soft laugh reached his ears. Tyler looked up at the booth in front of him and saw the back of a blonde head and an old man facing her, unapologetically aged despite his fine clothing. The man had a cup of coffee held between his hands but the young woman had nothing. She rested her right hand on the table, and Tyler spotted a smudge of grease in her fingernails. The way she moved her hands seemed so familiar, rhythmic and precise and sure--

The woman turned her head and Tyler immediately recognized her. Jenna.

Tyler ducked his head down, not wanting her to see him. She turned back to the man and said something, which made him smile again. He couldn't hear their conversation above the din in the kitchen. What was she doing here? Who was that man? Why did he choose to look so old?

Tyler's food arrived. He ate slowly, feeling the food settle in his stomach like wet concrete. He hoped he didn't throw up later. He needed to get his emotions under control. He closed his eyes and tried to ignore the world around him. Josh was like a bad tooth in his mind-- painful to keep, painful to remove. Something would come of it, he knew, and he didn't want to anticipate all the horrific possibilities.

Jenna and the man left a few minutes later. Tyler closed his eyes and ducked his head, praying she wouldn't see him, but he cracked one eye open and peeked up and met her, watching him as she trailed after the man. They stared at each other until Jenna was out the door.

"Darn it," he muttered to himself. She'd probably message him about it or bring it up the next time they met. His fear of confrontation was almost as strong as his curiosity. What if he wasn't meant to see that? Jenna wasn't on the good side of the law.

Tyler massaged his temples and scratched his nails over his scalp, staring at his half-eaten burger. He really wasn't hungry.

* * *

Tyler came home to see that Josh had completely dismantled the radio, springs and plastic bits and chips everywhere.

"Josh?" Tyler asked. "What are you doing?"

"Biology," Josh said, grinning. 

"I don't get it," Tyler said. Confused as he was, it was such a relief to see him after the fiasco at the brothel. Gertrude would never even _think_ to take his radio apart.

"I look like this on the inside," he said, pointing at the mess. "So it's like biology for me. And don't worry-- I know how to put it back together. Sorry for not asking you, by the way."

Since when did he know how to joke?

"Oh, okay," Tyler said, putting his shoes away. "I get it now. And it's fine. You know how to fix machines better than I do."

"Tyler?" Josh asked. "Did your shopping trip not work out? You don't have anything."

Astute.

"No," Tyler said, "It really didn't. I'm going to take a shower now."


	14. Chapter 14

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry this was so late! School has been kicking my ass and the edits I made to previous chapters ended up taking the story in a completely different direction than what I had already written, whoops.

Tyler was more careful around Josh after that.

He didn't touch him again, only doing so when Josh offered his hand. Josh gave no indication that he didn't like it, but Tyler was too afraid to ask. This was why he needed an assistant in the first place, and now he was messing that up too.

The little plant Josh had bought was finally flowering, the buds peeling open petal by petal, like clenched fists surrendering their fury. The blossoms were white, the petals so thin they were nearly translucent and if Tyler brought his eyes close to them, he could count the tiny veins lining them.

Josh was fascinated by them. His fingers, free of dirt and oil, could safely handle the waxy petals. Tyler watched him trace his fingertips over the thin, translucent pistils and stamens one morning before work, several days after Tyler returned from his failed excursion to the red light district.

"It's so soft," Josh said softly as Tyler spread seaweed paste on a large fiber cracker. He was waking up earlier now and he could feel the difference it made. He actually had time to savor breakfast in the morning. 

"You weren't able to tell before?" Tyler asked, a little confused.

"I was, but it didn't have any effect on me before," Josh said. "But now... I think I understand why you keep your kimono."

Tyler automatically went to touch the hem of his beloved garment.

"You're soft too," Josh said. "Your hands."

Was he talking about _that time?_ Tyler wanted to sink through the floor. Josh noticed his shame.

"It's okay, Tyler," he said. "It was a new experience. I didn't dislike it."

That answer wasn't very reassuring, but he took it anyways.

"Jenna's a genius," Josh said, unbothered as he changed the subject, and he ran one hand across his own cheek. "I can't imagine ever creating a program as complex as this."

Tyler paused at the mention of Jenna. He had never gotten around to asking her about who that guy was, and he wasn't sure if it was his business anyways.

"Is this the point of all living things?" Josh continued, turning the plant around. "Reproduction?"

This question was a little too deep for six in the morning.

"Um, I'm not sure what it is," Tyler said, a little dizzy from Josh's erratic subject changes. "Definitely not having kids, though."

"You don't want children?"

Tyler thought about his mother and his father and all his little brothers and sisters.

"No," he said. 

"Hmm."

Josh continued turning the plant over and over in his hands, only putting it down when they had to go.

Work was... work. All Tyler wanted to do was to lock himself in his room with his piano and not think about anything for the rest of forever, but he had bills to pay. At least no one made him cry today. He had, however, overheard his boss talking about replacing some workers with AI and Tyler knew he and his department would be the first to go.

God, Tyler wished he didn't have to worry about work so much. But receiving any inheritance from his mother was no guarantee, he couldn't afford a loan, couldn't retire, and he had no time to go back to school to work to increase his credentials to get a better job, which would be in the same building and company but perhaps on a higher floor. Maybe he'd finally be able to see the sun properly.

He only had himself to blame for this, though, and that he recognized and admitted without anger. The possibility that it might actually be the system failing around him was simply too absurd to seriously consider. There were the rich, like his mother and all his younger siblings, and there were the poor, like him and the millions in the slums. Statistically speaking, he was doing better than most, if one didn't count his diagnosis and his utter inability to keep his work relationships strictly professional.

At least no one made him cry today.

* * *

There was another Josh on the bus.

“Josh?” Tyler asked, noticing the unusual expression on his face. “What’s wrong?”

“There’s a model-mate in here,” Josh said.

“What?”

“Over there.”

Josh pointed at the other end of the subway car, and now Tyler saw it. There was another Josh model in their car. It (was it okay to call it an ‘it’ if it was the same model as Josh?) didn’t see them, too busy going over the details of a map with its patient, an old, blind man with a worn-down cane.

“Oh. Is it bothering you?” Tyler asked.

Josh nodded. "A little."

Tyler could understand. He had read somewhere, once, that there were enough people in the world that there were at least seven different people that looked exactly like you due to the limitations of genetic diversity. The thought had always terrified him, but he had never been so unfortunate as to actually run into one of his doppelgangers.

He looked over at Josh. His lips were twitching like he wanted to say something more, eyes still locked on the model-mate.

"Hey, Josh, you okay?" Tyler asked, hoping he would tell him what was wrong.

"I am," Josh said as the bus came to a stop. "I've seen dozens of other model-mates in my time but this is the first time it's bothered me."

The man and the robot exited, and Josh watched them leave through the window as the bus pulled away. It was good that Josh was bothered, right? It meant he was more aware of himself as an individual and not a copy.

He made this known to Josh.

"Look on the bright side," Tyler said. "It means you care about being your own person."

Josh seemed genuinely taken aback by that.

"You're right," he said, a grin growing on his face. "I do!"

Tyler had seen Josh smile before, but never _grin_. His smile was so wide Tyler could see his molars, and his eyes all but disappeared into fine, curved lines.

"Tyler, do I seem like my own person?"

It took Tyler a few moments to find the words to gather the brainpower to form a coherent response.

"Uh, yes," Tyler said. "I mean, I haven't met any other Joshes, but I know that you're different because you've got more memories. You're also wearing my clothes."

"Is that all it takes?"

"I... I don't know."

Josh sat deeper in his seat and thought the rest of the way home.

* * *

They went to the mall the weekend after that to buy Josh some new clothes after their talk on the bus. Tyler funded this excursion by dipping into his meager savings (which, frankly, wasn't even worth keeping, given the fact that he'd never be able to retire).

Tyler's headphones were secured firmly over his ears and his sunglasses were on, shielding him from most of the sound and noise echoing in the enormous complex packed with people. Really, coming to the biggest mall in Columbus on a Saturday afternoon was a terrible idea, but he didn't have the power to choose his break days and he had no other options. He was willing to do it, though, for Josh's sake. He never thought he'd ever do something like this for a robot, but things had changed. Josh was worth it.

He was also tired of Josh's legs stretching out his skinny jeans.

"So," Tyler said, staring out at the dozens of shops. "Where do we begin?"

"What do you think?" Josh asked.

"We're here for you," Tyler said. "You do what you want."

Josh's eyes glazed for a few moments before heading for the nearest shop.

Shopping with Josh was surprisingly easy. He just had to throw out suggestions every once in a while and let him know if something fit or not. He functioned perfectly fine on his own. It wasn't that Josh lacked judgement or opinions-- he just didn't vocalize them. Tyler began to see a clear pattern appearing from his choices: jeans like Tyler's, a size or two bigger, and loose shirts and oversized sweaters.

"You're not gonna be able to wear that to work," Tyler said when Josh held up a sleeveless tank top, the kind with the giant arm holes. Josh frowned.

"You can still wear it, though," Tyler said before he could put it back. "Summer's coming anyways and it gets hot here."

Josh smiled and folded the shirt into his arms.

Two hours, three pairs of jeans, five shirts, and a box of blue hair dye (???) later, Tyler and Josh were headed home on the bus as usual. Tyler's feet were aching and sore, and there was a tiredness in Josh's face that he hadn't seen before.

"Tired?" Tyler asked.

Josh nodded, flexing his feet. "Do you feel like this after walking a lot? Why don't you say anything?"

Tyler shrugged. "It's something you just get used to."

The bus went over a pothole when Josh leaned down to massage his leg, and he hit his head on the seat in front of him.

"Ow!"

Josh yelped and leaned back in his seat, rubbing his hand over his face.

"Are you okay?" Tyler asked.

"How do you _deal_ with it?" Josh asked, and Tyler could see tears sliding down his face. He let out a groan and Tyler awkwardly patted his shoulder, not sure how to comfort him.

"Sorry you got hurt. Is anything broken? You're not bleeding."

"My structure is fine," Josh said. "It just hurts."

He took his hands off his face and wiped his eyes. "At least my legs hurt less in comparison."

Tyler felt bad for laughing at his joke.

"Will you heal?" Tyler asked.

Josh nodded. "The nanobots should take care of it in a few days. At least my metal isn't dented. I'm just not used to feeling this much all the time."

Josh recovered from the pain by the time they made it home some twenty minutes later. They sat down together at the kitchen table to cut the tags off their clothing. Tyler's wallet and keys rested on one edge of the table as they worked through the small pile of clothes.

"Thank you for this, Tyler," Josh said.

"Don't thank me," Tyler said. "You don't owe me anything."

"I'm still grateful."

Tyler let it go and accepted the compliment. He reminded himself that Josh was an honest person. He wouldn't compliment him in the hopes of winning a favor later on. He could be genuine around him.

"By the way, I figured out what we were talking about last week."

Tyler put down a pair of jeans. "Huh?"

"On the bus, when I saw that model-mate. Remember that?"

"Oh, right. What did you figure out?"

"We're all individuals, appearance and design aside. We're the products of our environment. I might be the same model as another unit but our experiences are uniquely different because of who and what we interact with. We become individuals the moment we begin to exist."

"Wow. That makes sense. Does the whole model-mate thing still bother you?"

"Sometimes, when I see another one out there. But they don't know about you and that makes them different."

"I make you different?"

"Well, yes. I'm closest to you. I'm changing you, too."

"You definitely are," Tyler said.

Josh set his clothe aside and reached for Tyler's wallet. He thumbed through it and pulled out his company-issued ID card.

“What’s so interesting?” Tyler asked as he gathered the clothes together. He'd put it in the wash tomorrow.

“Your name,” Josh said. He turned the card over, then looked at the front again. “Tyler Robert Joseph. You have three first names.”

“I know,” Tyler said. “It’s kinda dumb.”

“It’s fine,” Josh said. “It’s cute.”

Josh found a lot of things cute, from the usual puppies and kittens to the stranger creatures, objects, and ideas one might not consider as adorable, which now included his name. It was better than him disliking it, he supposed.

Josh ran his thumb over Tyler’s picture on the card. He hated that picture; he was in the middle of an anxiety attack when the photo was shot and he looked like a deer in headlights.

“I don’t have a last name,” Josh mused.

Tyler was suddenly horrified. He had always thought of Josh as just _Josh_. But Josh probably needed a surname more than he did. There were at least a dozen exact copies of him wandering around Columbus as they spoke.

“You should make one,” Tyler said. “It won’t be legal or anything, but you can use it. Just for us.”

“What would I pick, though?”

Tyler shrugged. “That’s what parents are for most of the time.”

“The closest thing I have to a parent is my designer.”

“You don’t feel uncomfortable with that?”

Josh shook his head, then tilted it to the side in confusion. “No. Relieved, actually. Someone out there put that much effort into the way I looked and moved. Human reproduction is a bit of a gamble. "

“Oh.”

"I'm an older model. The more recent designers at the companies the hospitals buy me and the others from made a few adjustments over the decades, but my first and most significant creator was named Edwin Dun. He was born in 2048 and died on 2131. I’m like his grandson, I suppose. So I guess I'm a Dun.”

Tyler would offer his own surname to share, but Josh didn't deserve the drama that came with the Joseph name. Perhaps not having any family was better than having his. That, and he wasn't sure about considering him a sibling or a even a _spouse_.

“Josh Dun,” Tyler said. “It sounds pretty good, actually."

Josh grinned. “Do I need a middle name?”

Tyler shrugged. “If you want to. Most people have one anyways. Make it something you like, since your first and last names were from someone else and you don't get to choose what they are.”

Josh pursed his lips in thought. “Should it mean something important?”

“That’s up to you, too. Most parents do think about the meaning before they name their kid, but some just call them something because it’s cool.”

Josh stood up from the dining table. “I want to do some research. It’s my name and I want it to matter to me.”

He fetched his tablet from where it was charging in Tyler’s room. Tyler took the opportunity to put the clothes in the washing machine to get a head start. It was too noisy to run during the night, but putting the laundry in the night before would motivate him more. That was what Josh had advised him, and it worked.

Tyler finished putting away the clothes and saw Josh on the sofa. He walked over to see what Josh was doing on the tablet. He was on a baby-naming site.

“There’s a lot of names," he noted. "It’s gonna take you a while. Don't you want to go to sleep?” 

“I know. I can charge and look through this at the same time, if that's alright. Looking at the tablet doesn't use up a lot of power.”

“Oh, okay. Tell me what you pick out.”

Tyler gently rested a hand on top of his head as he left to get ready for bed, fingers briefly luxuriating in his silk-soft hair. Josh made a soft buzzing noise.

Josh was awake when Tyler wandered into the kitchen the next morning. The tablet was set on the coffee table, and Tyler could see the end of Josh's charging cable resting on the arm of the sofa. Josh himself was idly playing with a curl as he figured out the settings for the washing machine.

“I decided what I want my middle name to be,” he said.

“What is it?” Tyler asked as he poured himself a bowl of cereal. He got the powdered milk mixture from the pantry and mixed it with water in a separate bowl.

“William,” Josh said as he settled at the dining table.

Tyler sat down and joined him, dipping his spoon into his breakfast.

“Why William?” he asked.

“It means ‘resolute protector’.”

Tyler hummed around his mouthful of cereal. “I like that. It’s fitting.”

“I found out what Joshua means, too. It means ‘God saves’.”

“Do you believe in God?”

"I'm not sure. But I looked up your names, too."

Tyler figured Josh would figure out the God thing later and dropped it. “What do all three of my names mean?”

“Tyler just means, well, a tiler. They were the ones who put the shingles on roofs. Robert means ‘famous’, or ‘shining’. And Joseph means ‘may God increase’.”

“Huh. Thank you for taking the time to look at them. I never bothered to look.”

“Of course. There's things I want to learn about you that don’t come from a medical file.”

Tyler’s heart hurt at that. “Thanks,” he said, and choked down the strange hurting feeling with a spoonful of corn flakes.


	15. Chapter 15

Work was exhausting, as usual. Someone's computer had gotten a virus and he had to call cybersecurity to take care of it, but the AI was down and there was nothing he could do but let his productivity count go down. The only thing keeping him there was the paycheck and the terrifying knowledge that he'd fail everywhere else. Tyler rested in the lounge (workers of his rank were only allowed to visit it for a total of one hour every month) and checked his phone. His bills were going to come through email in a few days and so was his bank statement. His mother shared a picture with him on Facebook, taken from a plane window, gazing down at the city below. She had gone on a reunion trip with some old friends in Beijing. None of it made him very happy.

There was, however, a text from Jenna. Tyler hadn't heard from her in some days, and he was glad to talk to her again.

 

_hey, tyler, how's the program working?_

Sent by Jenna at 11:23 AM

 

Tyler tapped Josh on the shoulder. He was sitting next to him on the sofa in the lounge, staring blankly off into space. Tyler realized that was what he was like when he was first assigned to Tyler, and his posture and behavior was nothing like it normally is now; stiff-limbed and silent. He liked him better when he was relaxed. Josh almost seemed nervous around the higher-paid workers.

"Hey, Josh," Tyler said. "Jenna's asking how the program's doing."

Josh pinched himself slightly. "It works just fine," he said. "I haven't noticed anything out of the ordinary."

"You wanna tell her that?"

Josh nodded, and Tyler handed over the phone. Tyler watched his thumbs move swiftly across the keypad, making a correction before handing it back to him. Tyler noticed that he tended to chew his lip whenever he wrote.

 

_This is Josh. It works very well, thank you. Are you working on anything else?_

Sent by Tyler at 2:54 PM

 

Tyler set the phone down between them and rested his mind. Brendon passed by the lounge and waved at Tyler through the glass wall.

His phone chimed a few minutes later.

 

_not at the moment, i'm mostly just making plans for a family reunion._

Sent by Jenna at 2:57 PM

 

_Is that who that guy was? Family?_

Sent by Tyler at 2:58 PM

 

Tyler realized that question might not make sense to her. He winced, and Josh caught his expression.

"What's wrong?" he asked.

"I just botched a question," Tyler said. "I saw her with some older-looking guy a while back and she was talking about a family reunion. I tried to ask if he was related to her somehow but it-- I said it kinda weird."

"Can I see?"

"Yeah."

Josh looked over his phone.

"That's nothing to worry about," Josh said. "After all, if she doesn't understand, she can just ask to clarify. I'll help you answer if that makes you more comfortable."

Josh was a much smoother talker than Tyler.

 

_?_

Sent by Jenna at 3:01 PM

 

Tyler typed up a response and showed it to Josh, who nodded in approval.

 

_Uh, remember when you saw me at the restaurant a while back? I was asking if you were related to the guy with you._

Sent by Tyler at 3:07 PM

 

_o yah that's my dad_

_he likes robots, you guys should meet him sometime_

Sent by Jenna at 3:08 PM

 

"Should we?" Tyler asked.

"It's good to get out more. You don't do that so often so it'll be good for you. Maybe he has connections to a job, too."

That was true.

 

_Sure. Do you have any idea when?_

Sent by Tyler at 3:11 PM

 

_either really soon or really later_

_holiday times (before + after) are really busy bc people buy bots for their family members and they break/get stolen/sold etc_

Sent by Jenna at 3:13 PM

 

_That works. It gets busy this time of year too, since this is a banking company. Everyone spends and goes bankrupt and they have to call us to take care of it_

Sent by Tyler at 3:15 PM

 

Tyler wasn't too happy that they hadn't been able to figure out a solid date, but Josh said it was better than nothing. They'd be able to make a schedule when they did figure it out.

Tyler collapsed into his bed as soon as he got home. His clothes were too dirty to lay in bed, but he was just tired enough that he didn't care. He sunk deep into the mattress, letting the blanket suffocate him as he lay face down.

"Tyler?" Josh asked as he entered the room after him.

"What?"

"I'd like to ask you something. About myself, don't worry."

He heard Josh shrugging off his jacket and going to the closet to put it away.

Tyler rolled over to look at Josh, standing a few feet away. "What is it?"

"I--" Josh paused now, and it was strange seeing him so hesitant, "I'd like to cut my hair."

"What?"

"All the Josh models have the same hairstyle and everyone recognizes that. I know I can't change my face unless I buy new parts and that isn't allowed, but my hair-- it can grow and they let you change that. There's a law that says that's allowed."

"I wouldn't want you to change your face anyways," Tyler said. "That sounded weird, but really. Your face is fine. You could get a haircut though."

Josh ran a hand through his curly hair. Tyler had seen it be trimmed a few times in the hospital. It was a testament to how much care their creators put into their design.

"So what do you wanna do?" Tyler asked. "Are we gonna go to a barber? Will they even do that?"

"I'll need your clipper," Josh said.

"You're shaving your head?"

"Not all of it. I want a mohawk. Dyeing it sounds good, too. It looks nice."

Tyler imagined Josh, the gentle, plain, and conservative Josh, with a spiked, brightly-colored mohawk. It was kind of hard to imagine, but if it was what Josh wanted, he'd do it. It seemed frivolous, but he knew his appearance was a soft spot for Josh and he knew how important it was for him. 

"Okay. That explains the hair dye. Is there anything else you're planning to do?" Tyler asked.

"I want tattoos."

Josh must have noticed that Tyler had stopped breathing.

"I won't get anything scary," he promised.

"That's not what I'm worried about," Tyler said. "Can your skin even handle that? Is that allowed?"

"No," he said. "Patients aren't allowed to make permanent alterations. But my skin is designed to mimic humans' as perfectly as possible. I can get piercings too, which I'm also a bit interested in, if I'm going to be completely honest."

Josh sounded bashful as he said this. Tyler swallowed.

"What do you even want to get as a tattoo?" he asked.

"The whole world."

"What?"

"The trees, the sky, the sun. I want it to look like those old Pablo Picasso paintings. You've seen those, right?"

"Yeah. But I thought you didn't like color. You always dress in black and white."

"That's because I wasn't sure about what I liked yet. I like blue."

"Oh, me too."

"Hmm. Well, in that case, I like red."

"It's not illegal to like the same things as someone else, Josh."

"Oh, I know. I like every color. That's why I have no problem changing it."

Josh headed for the bathroom. He kept the door open as he started to rummage through the cabinet beneath the sink.

"You're doing this right now?"

"Is this a bad time?"

"No, but it was just so sudden. The clipper should be under the sponges."

No stopping him now, Tyler figured.

"I found it!"

Josh plugged it in, turned it on, and nearly dropped the clipper in surprise when began buzzing in his hands. He made a face at the way it vibrated and he set it down on the counter, which was a mistake because it started loudly clattering around on the fake marble before falling into the sink. Josh pulled the plug and the clipper stopped.

"It tickled," he complained, wringing his hands.

Tyler laughed and got up. "Here, I'll do it for you."

The vibrations bothered him too, but he had been shaving his head for years and was used to the strange sensation. He grabbed it from the sink and dried the wet spots off with a hand towel.

"Sit down," he said, gesturing to the toilet.

Tyler pulled out a large towel and wrapped it around Josh's shoulders. He wet his hair with water from a spray bottle and a comb that he hadn't picked up in years. Josh squeezed his eyes shut when the spray got near his face.

"Sorry," Tyler said, parting his hair.

He was a little sad to see his hair go. It was very soft, and he ran his hands through it a few more times than he needed to as he prepared to shave it.

"Does this width look alright?" he asked, turning his head towards the mirror.

"Yes. You can shave it."

Somehow, shaving someone else's head was much more terrifying than doing it to himself. He kept his hands as steady as they could, running the clipper over his scalp agonizingly slowly as he tried not to make any crooked lines. Curly hair fell around Josh's shoulders as he moved forward. Josh picked a tuft from the towel and studied it.

"It's gone," he said with quiet amazement.

"It is," Tyler said, moving closer to the back of his head. It was hard to see what he was doing standing, and there was not enough room on either side of the toilet to scoot over. He had to sit on him.

"Sorry," he mumbled, planting himself in Josh's lap. Josh didn't seem to mind. (Man, his thighs were squishy. This was pretty comfortable.)

"I can't see anything," Josh complained into his shirt. His nose poked into his sternum.

"My need to see is more important than yours right now," Tyler said, reaching the back of his head and shaving the last bit off. "Okay, the first side's done."

Josh brought a hand up to feel the prickly, shaved half. "Huh."

Tyler leaned back to start on the other side. It was easier going from this position and he finished much faster.

"There," he said, admiring his handiwork. He thought he did a decent job. Josh looked at himself in the mirror, amazed at the change his haircut made.

"Thank you, Tyler," he said, standing up. The towel fell from his shoulders and covered him with hair.

"You're gonna need to shower if you want to get all that hair off. You're not leaving the bathroom until you do, by the way."

"Of course," Josh said.

He pulled off his clothes in front of Tyler. Even after living with him for over a month, Tyler still had no idea whether to look away or not.

Josh turned the tap and immediately leaped in.

"Isn't it cold?" Tyler asked. "I thought you were sensitive to that kind of thing."

"It is," Josh said. "But computers work better in the cold. Do I need to use shampoo?"

"I-- I guess you do? Is your hair greasy?"

Josh rubbed his scalp. "No. I don't produce sebum."

"Then I don't think you need to. Good for you, and for me because I don't like buying shampoo. Hey, uh, I'll be outside. This is kind of awkward."

"I'll clean up the hair," Josh said.

"Oh, right, that. I'll do it."

Tyler was actually volunteering to clean something up. What a miracle.

The hair went into the little garbage can by the toilet, and the laundry went into the hamper. After cleaning up, Tyler sat down at his piano and practiced a little. He could faintly hear the rushing of water through his headphones. The smell of steam and lathered body wash began to fill the room. The hot water must have finally come through, or Josh just got too cold.

Josh emerged from the shower some twenty minutes later. Tyler hoped that he didn't get into the habit of bathing regularly. His water bill would never be the same.

That wasn't his main concern at the moment, however, because Josh emerged from the shower completely soaked, dripping water into the carpet of his bedroom. The towel wrapped around his waist was perfectly dry.

There were a number of corrections he wanted to make, but he had no idea where to start.

"Is something wrong?" Josh asked.

Tyler opened his mouth, then closed it. "Uh, yeah. You need to dry off, Josh."

"I can air dry."

"Josh, that takes forever, you'll soak the carpet."

Josh considered this for a moment before yanking the towel from his waist and drying off his hair in harsh, rapid motions.

"Not so hard, dude, you're gonna damage your skin. And hair."

Josh slowed down.

Tyler couldn't blame him for not knowing proper shower etiquette, but jeez.

"All dry," Josh announced, looking like he had been electrocuted. He was grinning, happy that he had learned something new. "You know, I wonder why I didn't think to ever shower before," he said, heading to the closet to fetch a fresh set of clothes.

"I mean, you're only supposed to do it when you need to," Tyler said.

"The warm water felt great. I don't know why I didn't do it as much before I met you."

"Probably because the water bill would be through the roof."

"We could shower together if that would save water," Josh suggested.

"Uh."

"Or not," Josh said, backtracking. “I’m sorry if I made you uncomfortable.”

He pulled on his favorite shirt, the grey one with the cat on it. 

"That's okay," Tyler said, hoping Josh wouldn't be able to hear his racing heart attempting to break out of his chest.

Tyler helped Josh bleach and dye his hair later in the week. Tyler kept a clothespin over his nose because he hated the smell of the bleach. It was why he had never dyed his hair, even though he liked the way it looked.

Josh had picked out a vibrant blue for his first color. He had decided to bleach his entire head of hair, not just the strip in the middle. An odd decision, but Tyler wasn’t about to question it. He ran his hands through Josh’s lightened hair, listening to his plastic gloves crinkle as his fingers bent.

“I’m going to miss your natural hair,” he said to him.

“Don’t worry,” Josh said, looking up at him. “My hair will grow back.”

“How fast?”

“About half an inch a month, more with cutting. The same as a regular person.”

“Strange that they bothered to have you guys be able to do that.”

Josh shrugged, the towels around his shoulders flapping. “It would make more sense for it to not grow. Oh well, I'm not complaining.”

Tyler brushed the dye mixture onto Josh’s head. 


	16. Chapter 16

Tyler wasn't surprised at Dr. Miller's raised eyebrow when he and Josh walked into his office. Neither of them wanted to be there-- but attendance was not an option. They'd have to get better at lying.

"You dyed its hair?" he asked after they had settled in.

Tyler didn't know if it was safe to mention that it was Josh who had chosen it. Probably not.

"Yeah," he finally settled on saying.

"I can tell you're much more comfortable around it. Has your anxiety gotten better? How frequently do you have attacks?"

"Uh," Tyler began, thinking back to the last few weeks. "It's alright. I think it's better. I'm not too sure."

"You're having a hard time with specifics. Let's start simpler-- is there one good thing that's happened to you this week?"

Tyler realized that all of his happy moments involved Josh learning to think for himself. He'd have to think fast.

"I, uh, I got to take a break in the lounge a while back," Tyler said. "It was nice and quiet there."

"It's the small things in life that make us truly happy. Money is important for living, but that in itself won't make you happy. You need to accomplish other things."

Tyler didn't think it was fair of the doctor to say that given the fact that he was paid a healthy salary. Tyler couldn't accomplish other things if he didn't have enough money to pay his bills. But he kept his mouth shut like he always did.

His eyes drifted to Josh, kneeling in the corner like an idol. No, not an idol-- Josh was wholly alive and present. The maintenance bot worked over him with a dozen tiny instruments, feeding him protein capsules for his skin and adjusting the wires inside his body. The sight was still a little strange-- Tyler half expected ribs and organs and effluvia.

* * *

An evening of chores left them sitting quietly on the sofa, eyes fixed on the tiny sliver of sky that they could see between the skyscrapers that surrounded them. The moon seldom passed through that tiny chunk of sky, a beautiful, luminous camel through a stone needle's eye. He hadn't seen the moon with his own eyes for years. Something about his day at the hospital and Josh's soft hair made him want to look for it tonight.

They had no such luck, but Josh's arm was curled around Tyler's shoulder and he smelled warm and clean.

"Josh?" Tyler asked.

"Yeah?"

"Do you think you could ever fall in love?"

"Why do you ask?"

"I mean, I just feel like maybe there's some reason why I haven't been able to get married and stuff. I know I'm supposed to be by now-- I'm almost thirty-- but people are just. Hard. I'm scared of them, really."

"Are you saying you want to fall in love with me instead?"

 _Not instead, Josh,_ Tyler thoughts.

"No," Tyler lied. "I'm just wondering if you ever feel lonely like that."

"Affection comes naturally to me," Josh said. "I've always been made to enjoy touch, even before the patch Jenna added. But so are you. Humans are social animals. Everyone needs love, romantic or not."

"Do you think I get enough of it?"

"No. Not as much as you deserve."

"I've done nothing to deserve anything."

"You live. You cope. You're kind to me."

"I guess."

"I think your mother ought to show you more."

"What do you mean?"

"She hurt you when you were young, yes?"

"It was for a reason. I can't really say I turned out just fine, but it wasn't because of that."

"Are you sure? Physical punishment is an outdated practice."

"Yeah. She's old fashioned. So was my dad. Why are you talking about this? You've met her, she's not a bad mom."

"I don't mean to argue with you, Tyler. I just want to point out my professional observation from our previous conversations and my own analysis of your behavior. When did she stop hitting you?"

"She still does it now. Only sometimes. It doesn't hurt but it gets me to listen."

"Life isn't about listening. Neither is love."

"What do you know about love? I thought you didn't want to argue."

"And I don't. I want to end this on a high note. I think you're doing better than you were before. You have Jenna now. And Brendon better respects your boundaries."

"Yeah. I'm gonna shower now."

"That's a good idea. I want to shut off early, if that's alright."

"You don't need to ask."

Josh was already asleep by the time Tyler emerged from the shower. His skin felt uncomfortably tight from the soap he used and he rolled his shoulders as he changed into his pajamas and set up his clothes for the next day. He still dreaded the work, but the little things in between-- the chores, the silences, the TV watching, it was all a little softer-edged after Josh had carved out his place in Tyler's home.

His doctor had warned him about codependency, about his bad habit of becoming addicted to the first thing that showed him kindness and why that was weakness, but Tyler didn't want to stand alone. He realized that as he sat on his bed, staring at his piano.

Yes, he loved Josh. Because he was selfish and lonely. Josh didn't love him and Tyler shouldn't worry at it like a cankersore.

* * *

Movie night. Swan Lake, a recorded performance from a theater long demolished or forgotten. He never had much interest in dance before, but he had never seen people move like this, all arms and legs and bending spines. Tyler was enchanted, and it seemed that Josh was as well judging by the way his eyes got a bit round and glassy.

Tyler hadn't been expecting the bittersweet end. For a moment, Tyler had forgotten that bad things could still happen to things so beautiful. Josh's eyes were wet, and again the humanity of it struck him. Tyler kept a comforting arm around his shoulders and didn't point out his tears. He was glad that Josh wasn't pulling away.

The credits rolled. Josh wiped his eyes and looked at him.

"This is such a sad story, Tyler," he said.

Tyler looked back at the screen. "I know," he said, and maybe he was thinking about himself when he said what he said next. "They did all that for-- what? People are just dumb, I guess."

Josh seemed offended. "No, they're not. It's love."

"I know it is," Tyler said. "Love hurts people, and that's good."

He thought of his mother locking him in the closet as a toddler, and his father, beating her in turn. Love was the only thing keeping them together.

"Is it?" Josh asked. "I don't think so."

"When was the last time you've had good results from loving someone? Even me."

Josh's jaw went tight, and he breathed in like he was going to say something, but he ultimately said nothing. Tyler immediately regretted saying anything. It seemed that he couldn't stop fucking up with Josh. This conversation was getting uncomfortable.

"I have to go," Tyler said urgently. "I'm sorry." He darted up from the warm couch and left him behind, going to his room and closing the door. He didn't lock it.

Tyler sat in his chair and stared out the window. He didn't understand the tightness in his chest he felt when he saw Josh cry. Sometimes Josh seemed so naïve, despite the fact that he had lived through more than Tyler ever would. (Maybe that was why Tyler felt flayed at the sight of his tears and his declaration that _it was love!_ Josh had a tenderness about him that reminded Tyler of how easily he had let go of his own.)

It wasn't that Tyler didn't want love. He craved it, he craved attention, he craved approval, feeling so neglected in such a loud, busy world, but as an outsider looking in, he saw how much harm those things could inflict. His mother was one such victim of it, clinging desperately to a man who hated her until his dying day. Brendon, drifting from partner to partner, too scared of what they might find in him to linger. Jenna, cursed to a life of solitude and paranoia. Josh, forced to fall in love again and again only for it to be inevitably ripped away from him.

Tyler sighed and closed his eyes. He never felt more disconnected from the world than he did now. He wanted to drift away from it entirely and become something cold and clean. He'd be happier if he was a robot. He wished he had no need for love.

Josh knocked on his door a few minutes later, letting himself in when Tyler didn't respond. He turned his head back to study his face.

Josh's eyes were no longer watery, white and clear like they always were after he cried. He opened his arms, asking for permission. Tyler granted it and got up to hug him, resting his head on his shoulder. He hated how comforting it was.

Josh pulled away first, and they stood there for a time, still wrapped together.

Josh leaned forward, lips parting the tiniest bit, and Tyler jerked away, not. Josh reached out as Tyler ripped himself from his grasp, yearning and terrified all at the same time. 

"I'm sorry, Tyler," he said, "I couldn't--"

Josh wasn't able to finish, because his lips were sealed with Tyler's. He was an idiot for doing this, but Josh was so sad and so was he and maybe a kiss would fix it. That's how his mother ended her fights with his father.

Josh made a strange, sad sound, and another tear, warm and wet, slipped between their mouths as they pressed together, tight and chaste.

They pulled away after a long time. Josh's breath was as steady and even as ever while Tyler’s breathlessness filled the room.

Josh was the only source of warmth in the cool evening air. Tyler wrapped his arms around his waist to rest his hands on the flat plane of his back, and he could feel his machinery whirring beneath his clothes and skin as Josh returned the gesture. He could hear the TV from the living room, playing a commercial for a shampoo.

"Tyler? Was that okay?" Josh asked.

"Yeah. Don't worry about it. It was good."

Tyler could feel the gravity of the situation building up behind his eyes like the overture of an enormous migraine. He didn't want to talk about it; not now, at least, and it seemed that Josh didn't want to, either.

"I'm going to shower," he said, and turned away, abandoning Josh again.

He didn't cry in the shower. He didn't.

Josh was shutting the curtains in front of Tyler's window when he emerged from the bathroom, a towel wrapped around his waist.

"Are you feeling okay?" Josh asked. He was nothing more than a silhouette in the backlighting of the city behind him. The cool light matched his blue hair perfectly.

"Just fine," he said.

"Then I'm going to go charge for the night. Goodnight, Tyler."

Tyler caught his shoulder just as he turned away. "Wait."

Josh's eyes were soft and tired as he looked at Tyler, inquisitive. His hair fell into his face. They were so close to each other. "Yes?"

Tyler swallowed. "Could you-- could you sleep next to me?"

Tyler felt Josh go tense beneath his hand, and something in his face changed.

"Tyler--," he began.

"Never mind," he said, backpedaling and yanking his hand from Josh's shoulder like he was red hot. "I know you don't like it. Forget I asked, okay?"

Josh sighed. "I'm sorry about that, Tyler."

"No, don't be, please. I'll be okay. I've slept alone for years."

That sounded sadder than he intended, but he gave Josh a nudge out of his room. "Go charge, Josh."

Josh obeyed, and Tyler was alone in his small room. He shook his head and went to his bed. It creaked as he settled in.

He had no dreams that night.

Josh was in his room when he woke up. He was sitting cross-legged on his piano bench, not watching him but looking in his general direction. Tyler stared at his shock of blue hair for a few moments. Josh didn't seem to notice that he was awake.

"Josh," he murmured, voice still hoarse from sleep.

Josh looked at him and smiled.

"Good morning, Tyler. I'm here to help."

Tyler sat up. "Why do you still say that? You don't need to."

"I just like to," Josh said, eyes following him as he made his way to the bathroom.

Josh was still watching him when he came out, and when he stripped himself of his crumpled shirt and basketball shorts he called pajamas. He wondered what Josh was thinking about when he looked at him. He himself felt a glow of admiration whenever he saw Josh's body, as wrong as he knew it was. As unconventionally designed as he was, Josh was still modeled after an _ideal_. The company that made him advertised that they were designed using the same ratios and mathematically engineered proportions as the ancient Greek sculptors. His body was lean and muscular and carried just enough fat to soften his edges and fill out the thighs of his jeans. Tyler, on the other hand, somehow managed to be flabby and skinny at the same time. Josh was probably just appraising his physical health. Besides, he wouldn't know what to feel if it turned out that he was actually looking at Tyler the way Tyler looked at him.

"What're you looking at?" he asked as he slid on his kimono.

Josh blinked in surprise. "Can you kiss me again, Tyler?"

Tyler was never going to do the right thing, was he? He stepped closer and gave him another kiss, this one as gentle and slow as the first, little more than a chaste brushing of the lips. Josh let out a tiny sigh, and Tyler's heart swooped.

"Have you done this before? With anyone else?" he asked Josh after they pulled away.

Josh's eyes lost focus as he searched his archives.

"Yes," he finally said, voice soft. "Many of them, actually."

"Who?"

Josh's eyes became glassy again. "Debby. Alex. Mark. Almost all of them. Even the ones that were much older than me. It didn't matter."

"Do you still love them?"

Josh didn't hesitate to answer. "Always."

Tyler didn’t know what was more wrong--being relieved or being jealous. He felt both.

"Oh."

"You asked me if I loved you before," Josh said. Tyler watched his throat bob. "I didn't really have an answer for you back then. I think I do now. I do, Tyler."

"The same way you did with everyone else?"

His question held no venom.

"Is there any other way? Love is love."

"There are," Tyler said. "Friends and family don't kiss and stuff. Partners do."

"Is that what we are, then?"

"Not really."

Josh was silent for a moment. It was quiet enough that Tyler could hear his breathing, the mechanical whir reminding him that Josh couldn't and shouldn't ever be his partner, no matter how real he was on the inside.

"I see. Well, you should get breakfast. We've wasted enough time."

Tyler didn't understand why he felt the tiniest ache as he watched Josh leave.


	17. Chapter 17

“Tyler,” Josh said as they waited for the subway home from work a few days later.

Tyler pulled off his headphones, wincing at the rush of sound assaulting his ears. “Yeah?”

“Can you let go of my hand?" Josh asked. "It hurts.”

Tyler realized that he had been squeezing Josh’s hand with far too much force. He let go, and he could see that he had left nail-shaped dents in his pliable flesh.

“Sorry,” Tyler said, rubbing the area with his fingertips to soothe it.

"Are you nervous?"

"Yeah."

"Do you mind telling me why?"

Tyler chewed his lip. "It's just-- us, I guess. I mean, what are we doing?" 

“Hey,” Josh said, putting a hand on his shoulder. Tyler turned to look at him. "No one's going to know. Most people don't pay attention to the people around them. I'm meant to blend in and look like a person."

"You _are_ a person," Tyler said. "I think you are."

Josh shrugged and smiled sadly. "Not according to the laws. You know that. But we'll be alright. No one has to know."

Tyler still couldn’t help but glance behind him every few feet.

Tyler collapsed into his bed as soon as he got home. His clothes were too dirty to lay in bed, but he was just tired enough that he didn't care. He sunk deep into the mattress, letting the blanket suffocate him as he lay face down.

"Tyler?" Josh asked.

"What."

"Do you need anything?"

"Yeah, actually. Could you lay on top of me?"

Josh processed what he was saying for a moment before complying. He knelt on the twin-sized mattress.

"My entire weight?" he asked, still hesitant. "Tyler, I weigh over a hundred and forty pounds. You won't be able to breathe."

"I know," Tyler said. "It's fine. I like the pressure. Do you not want to do it? For personal reasons?"

"Well-- oh, alright."

Josh slowly lowered himself until he completely covered Tyler. Then he relaxed and let his weight sink in over him, whirring as his innards adjusted. Tyler sighed and shut his eyes. It was a little hard to breathe, but he liked it that way. Josh was better than the other strange things he normally used to lay on himself when he wanted this. He was warm and slightly soft and covered him perfectly. The breath from his nostrils tickled the back of his neck. 

He had grown used to Josh’s mechanical nature. He hardly noticed the soft whirring he could hear and feel beneath his skin when he moved, and his breathing had become more comforting than disturbing.

"Do you find this enjoyable?" he asked. His voice reverberated in his chest and into Tyler's body.

Tyler shut his eyes. "Yep. Just stay here for a while."

"Okay."

Tyler was glad that he was okay with this. He missed being near Josh.

Josh paused, tense like he wanted to say something.

“You know," he began, "I know I was sent here to help you, but you help me a lot too.”

“We are pretty similar.”

“Does that make you feel good?”

“Yes,” Tyler said. “A lot better than if you didn’t. It was kind of the reason why I didn’t like you so much before.”

“I thought it was the fact that I’m a robot, though that doesn’t seem to bother you too much now.”

“It wasn’t just that. If you were, like, an organic person, I still probably wouldn’t have liked you if you didn’t understand. I hope that's reassuring.”

Tyler didn’t know if it was residue of all the other emotions he’s felt today, but tears of some emotion he couldn’t recognize made his heart churn and brought tears to his eyes, which soaked into the polyester sheets. He watched as the beads of water suspended themselves above the woven fabric, resisting absorption, before finally sinking in and staining the white sheets a darker color.

“Your heart rate is speeding up,” Josh said. “I can get off of you if you want me to.”

“No,” and Tyler reached back to clutch at Josh's hand. His hand missed his arm and touched the skin peeking out between his shirt and his pants, and for a moment, he let himself touch Josh, petting the soft skin at his hips. Josh made a sound he could only describe as a purr. He kept stroking him, and the conversation fizzled away.

Traffic rushed below. The air vents whirred. The upstairs neighbors tramped about. The sun glinted off the pearly plastic of his keyboard at the window and the little silver antenna of his radio. Josh shifted and eventually rolled off of him.

"I'm just so worried I'm crushing you," Josh admitted, and it came with a sheepish smile. Tyler swallowed, not sure what to do now that it was so close.

 

They lay on their sides, facing each other since there was not enough room on Tyler’s single-sized mattress. Josh’s eyes glimmered in the bright city lights. His eyelashes were short and stick-straight.

Josh studied Tyler. He ran gentle fingers over his features, lingering at his upper lip to feel the slight puffs of air that came with each exhalation. His thumb brushed over his eyelid and down his cheek and over his lower lip, coming dangerously close to slipping into his mouth.

“Tyler?” he asked.

“Yeah?”

“Have you been feeling good recently? Physically and mentally? Is there any pain or discomfort?”

Customary checkup.

“Yeah,” Tyler said. “A lot better than before.”

“Not because of me, right?”

Tyler didn’t even want to think about how many insecurities Josh’s processors could stuff into that sentence, so he chose to spare him and not point them out.

“It is because of you,” Tyler said. “I don’t want you to baby me at all and you don’t want to either, but you’ve been so kind to me regardless. You don’t have to do any of this.”

“Yes I do,” he insisted. "I'm your therapist, above everything else."

His face crumpled for a moment as if he were in pain.

“You okay?” Tyler asked.

“It always feels bad when I feel these things,” Josh said. “The patch and my original programming and my new protocols are all mixed up and it feels terrible.”

“I’m sorry,” Tyler said, reaching out to touch Josh’s shoulder.

“I don’t need affection.” Josh said, and it hurt a little to hear that.

“I’m sorry,” he said again, shrinking away.

“I should have said it like that,” Josh said. “I just don’t know what to do with myself right now. Would you forgive me?”

“Yeah. It’s nothing. But doesn’t it feel bad to be ignored? I don’t like being touched, or talked to a lot, but being lonely sucks.”

Josh shrugged. “It feels nice when I’m touching, but I could live without it.”

“That doesn’t mean you don’t need it. It’s good for you to get it when you want it. Do you want it?”

“If I’m going to be honest, yes.”

Josh scooted closer to Tyler, sandwiching him between his body and the wall, and Tyler entangled his limbs with Josh’s to get as close to him as he could. Josh sighed and shut his eyes. Here, on a tiny mattress on a hot evening next to a warm body, Tyler was comfortable. Sleepiness washed over him like waves of honey, slow and paralyzing and oblivious to the passage of time. He pressed his face against Josh’s, close enough that he could smell the peppermint of his own breath blown back against Josh’s skin. Josh himself smelled like clean plastic and not much else. His skin was positively silky, and Tyler indulged himself and nuzzled him like a cat, eyes shut. He could hear Josh’s eyes whirring in their sockets as they traced Tyler’s movements.

“What are you doing?” Josh asked as Tyler continued rubbing their cheeks together.

“Just wanna be near you,” Tyler said. "I don't think I've had a real, actual hug in, like... months."

“That feels good.”

“That patch Jenna installed works, doesn’t it?” he asked, and Josh hummed in agreement.

“Do you like it?” Tyler asked.

“Yeah,” Josh said. “Do you?”

“Yep. Did you do this with anyone else?”

Josh searched his memories, though he seemed distracted by Tyler’s fingers as he worked his way closer to his jaw. “Yes,” he said. “Once.”

“How far did it go?” Tyler asked, breath hitting the shell of Josh’s ear.

“I’m not too sure,” he said. “It was far for them, but not for me. This is the first time I’ve had a sensory patch installed.”

“Who was it with? Debby?”

“It was her.”

“Of course.”

“Are you jealous?”

“No. I’m happy for you,” Tyler said, nipping his earlobe.

Josh lifted his arm slowly, hesitantly sliding over Tyler's shoulders and resting on his back, right between his shoulders. Tyler shuddered as he felt Josh's hands study the shifting of his shoulder blades.

“What are we doing?” Josh muttered.

“Nothing good,” Tyler said.

“I want to stop,” Josh said suddenly, and pulled back his arm.

Tyler immediately pulled back too.

“Sorry,” Tyler said.

“It’s okay. It's not you. I just don’t feel comfortable enough for this yet.”

“That's fine. I'm not, either. Do you want to sleep on the couch?”

“Maybe that’s for the best. I’m sorry.”

“Don’t be.”

Josh got out of his bed. Tyler looked up at Josh from where he lay. The space Josh had occupied was still warm, and Tyler spread his body to cover it and absorb the warmth before it could disappear entirely. He couldn’t see his face at this angle.

“Goodnight, Tyler. I’ll see you in the morning.”

“Goodnight, Josh.”

Tyler was left alone to stare at the ceiling as his mind ran over what Josh might be thinking of him. He was making bad decision after bad decision, and he thought about what Josh had said to him a few weeks before about finding someone to date. Being attracted to your assistant wasn’t normal or healthy, even if many of Josh’s previous patients had done what he did. They did that because they were _sick,_ and Tyler wanted to be better than that.

 _But did any of that matter?_  his conscious beseeched.  _It’s not like anything else about you is normal._

Tyler huffed a sigh and rolled over, pressing his face into the pillow as if he could block out his thoughts. The warm, tingling burn in his chest still nagged him, and he cursed himself before falling into a fitful sleep.

* * *

Josh stayed at home when Tyler went out on his walk with his mother that Saturday.

“So, Tyler,” his mother said as she took a swig of her water bottle. Summer was coming, and the temperatures were already in the nineties halfway through June. Tyler would have forgotten to take his water had it not been for Josh. “How are things with you and your little robot?”

He was aching to tell someone, anyone, about his horrific secret without any repercussions, but he knew he had to keep his mouth shut. Even if there wasn’t a problem with the fact that he wanted a relationship with his robot, he still wouldn’t have told his mother. Despite her insistence that Tyler needed to become independent and get on with his life, any mention of relationships drove her mad. Tyler suspected that it had something to do with his late father. He wasn’t sure. His mother was his mother, and he understood her the least despite having known her for his whole life.

“It’s—it’s okay,” he said. “I’ve been feeling better. Getting more things done. Maybe my boss will give me a raise after how much I’ve improved.”

She seemed elated to hear that. “Tyler, I’m so glad to hear that you’re getting back on track. I knew you had it in you. Do you think you’ll ever go back to school?”

Tyler shook his head. “No. Never. You know how much I hated it there.”

“But you’ll miss out on so many opportunities,” she insisted like she hadn’t tried this argument a thousand times before.

“No, Mom, I’m sorry. I don’t want to go back to school. I’m fine with the job I have right now. I don’t need a lot of money.”

“I’m sorry for having expectations about my firstborn. Remember what we said about your inheritance.”

“I’m sorry, Mom.”

“You’ll come around eventually, Tyler. I know some people are late bloomers when it comes to their work. You’ve always been an odd one.”

The oddness wasn’t his fault, and he wasn’t a late bloomer. He was just like this. Josh had assured him of these things many, many times, and he was finally starting to value his opinions over his mother’s. He hoped that was a good thing.

“I guess,” he finally said.

“Good. Did you know that Jay’s going to Ohio State, just like you?”

“Really? What’s he majoring in?”

“Robotics. Isn’t that exciting?”

“Uh-huh. What branch does he want to go into?” he asked, adding the question so his mother wouldn’t suspect that he was disinterested.

“Medical robotics, actually. He wants to improve the androids they have in service. Do you know why he wants to do that?”

“Why?”

“He says that you deserve the best care, no matter what you’re like.”

A small smile crept up his face. He hadn’t seen Jay or the rest of his siblings in years, outside of holidays where he never spoke to them anyways, and the fact that his youngest brother still seemed to care about him despite his estrangement was touching.

“Could you tell him that I’m happy to hear that?” he asked.

“You should tell him yourself. Visit him, maybe. You never come over to my house, either.”

None of his siblings ever went to their mother’s house if they could avoid it.

“I’ll think about it,” Tyler said, which meant that he wasn’t going to. His mother quirked an eyebrow at him.

“I will,” he insisted, though that was a lie as well.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> you know, i'm actually not so sure if this fic will be 30 chapters long given the number of edits i've made to it. either way, we're like... 3/4 of the way there? i think? thanks for sticking around for so long.


	18. Chapter 18

Sunday came. Josh did the dusting while Tyler vacuumed the floors, and he cleaned out his lungs while Tyler brushed his teeth. Josh sat on the lowered toilet seat and opened his chest, revealing two white lungs surrounded by circuitry. The whirring of his movements was much louder now that they weren’t muffled by his hull, and Tyler watched in morbid fascination as Josh took a small, damp washrag and opened a small seam in his lung, carefully cleaning out the inside before moving on to the other.

“Don’t you get those cleaned at the doctor's?” Tyler asked.

“They do, but not enough since there’s too much pollution. I’m actually luckier than other people. You can’t clean out your lungs like I can.”

He did have a point.

“That looks so weird.”

“Do you want to touch them?”

"Uh. Sure."

Tyler reached out and placed a careful hand on his exposed lungs as they inflated and deflated. They were smooth and translucent, resembling the moon jellies he saw at an aquarium once. He could see his blue, plastic diaphragm flexing. So he didn’t have fans, like Tyler had thought. The whirring sound seemed to come from the air being forced through the filters in his larynx. It sounded a lot smoother now that most of the dust had been cleaned out from them.

“That’s so cool,” Tyler said. “Does it feel weird?”

Josh shook his head. “Jenna’s patch only changed the nerves on the surface. The inside feels like it used to.”

Tyler poked a lung, and Josh made a funny-sounding squeak.

“Oh, sorry,” he said, though he was laughing.

“Never mind what I said earlier about the patch, I think it works on the inside, too. That tickled.”

Tyler sat back, and now Josh forced the two flaps of his ribs together, sealing his chest shut with a tiny click.

“Do you think you could hide stuff in there?” Tyler asked. "It looks like there's some extra space in there."

Josh looked down at his bare chest. “Maybe. I’ve never tried. I'm not sure why I'd want to do that, though.”

“In an emergency. You could hide a little kit in there.”

Josh pulled on his shirt, and Tyler was glad that Josh didn’t wear tight clothes. His mouth went dry looking at him put on a tank top. His feeling for him were getting worse, and he was almost helpless to stop them. Still, he didn’t regret what had happened last night. It felt good. He felt like he was close to someone else for the first time in a long while. He had seen all those documentaries about lonely people who fell in love with fictional characters or even sculptures, and shit, there was an entire Greek myth about a man like that. He never understood it until now. How convincing the illusion seemed, and how heartbreaking it was when you realized it wasn’t real.

He didn’t like Josh any less for it, though. He's past guilt at this point.

He sat at the dining table, kimono draped over his bare chest. Summer had settled deep into the land, and every day seemed hotter than the last. Tyler hated how his sweat made his clothes cling to his skin, more than most, and spent as much time as he could in the cool, thin fabric of his kimono and little else. The air conditioning in this building was weak, and it would easily reach ninety indoors by early afternoon. He’d need to draw a cold bath later today, even if the water company charged five times as much for cold water.

He started thinking about snow. Tyler had never seen it in his life, though he knew it used to snow in Ohio a century ago. Back in those days, even the hottest parts of the world rarely reached above a hundred ten. What Tyler wouldn't give to have a hundred ten. The hospitals would be flooded with thousands of people with heatstroke who lived in homes without air conditioning, though Tyler knew there were hundreds more who couldn't afford the bills and died, unable to escape the heat. He knew because the slums always smelled of death, and people would be buried in the landfill outside of town, corpses carried on stretchers by family members, lining up on the sidewalk like ants. He didn't gawk at the parades, but drew his shades and thanked god he lived and worked in buildings with air conditioning.

The TV schedule promised a showing of _Spider-Man_ that evening. New York had disappeared beneath the Atlantic over fifty years ago, and Tyler wondered if anyone living there back then knew what would become of their beloved city. He frowned. He knew it did him no good to set his sights towards the past—it was full of disease and primitive technology—but sometimes he just _wondered_. He had never seen snow or sunk his feet into the clean, white sand of a beach, or wandered through an ancient forest full of birdsong. The culture was different, too-- a little quieter, a little slower, a little more accepting of people who weren't as productive or useful as everyone else.

He sighed, slumping onto the warm, sticky plastic of the table. He eyed the little succulent resting on the middle of the table. It seemed happy. Josh was taking good care of it, just as well as he was taking care of Tyler. (Unlike the plant, however, Tyler didn’t want to be cared for. He just wanted a friend.)

There were still some habitable places that were fairly quiet. Antarctica came to mind, as did Mars and northern Greenland. He had dreamed of moving there, though he knew he would never have the money to leave. He was stuck, like everyone else, in the Midwest, surrounded by skyscrapers and advertisements and sixty-hour weeks and the sky that was more brown than blue, smog settling deep into his lungs and turning into cancer by age forty, only held back by expensive anti-aging treatments he wouldn't be able to afford. What a way to live.

“Hey, Tyler?” Josh called from the kitchen.

“Hmm?”

“Do you want something to drink? It’s getting hot out.”

“Oh, sure.”

Josh came back with two glasses: fake peach juice for Tyler, and water for Josh. Tyler looked at the water in confusion.

“I thought you couldn’t drink,” he said.

“I can, I just don’t need to,” Josh said before knocking back the entire glass in a single gulp. Tyler could hear the water sloshing in his stomach when he shifted in his seat.

“Then why are you drinking?”

“To make sweat and saliva,” he said, swiping at the ring of condensation the cold glass left on the table. “It’s more efficient than my fans.”

“I didn’t know you could," Tyler said. “Your mouth is really dry. It felt kind of weird when I kissed you.”

It felt weirder to say these things out loud, casually, as if Josh were made of flesh and blood and Tyler wasn't _Tyler_ and they were in love like normal people were.

“Oh,” Josh said, embarrassed. “Sorry if it feels weird. I didn't think it bothered you."

“It just felt a little weird," Tyler said, feeling like he was driving himself straight over a cliff but unable to shut up, "and I was worried that you would have to, like, gargle lube or something.”

That sounded a lot worse out loud than it did in his head. He was going to jump out his window. Josh laughed (a relief, he didn’t expect Josh to appreciate his vulgar humor) and seemed to blush a little bit, which certainly shouldn’t have been out of embarrassment given that he wasn’t afraid of sex.

“Maybe not. But I can make spit, if you want to touch my mouth as often as I think you do.”

Josh paired that with a smirk, and dear God, was Josh flirting with him? Was this just a joke? Should he laugh?

Tyler smiled back awkwardly, and Josh dropped the smile.

“Did I step too far?” he asked. “I’m sorry if I made you nervous—“

“No, no, I’m fine,” Tyler said. “I just—are you flirting with me? Or just joking? I have a hard time with little things like that, remember?”

“Oh,” Josh said. “I didn’t think about that. But I was flirting. Are you okay with it?”

Tyler certainly didn’t dislike it.

“I’m fine with it,” Tyler said. “I just wasn’t expecting it. You can keep doing it.”

“Oh, good. I like doing it. It makes me feel Real.”

“Really?”

Josh nodded. “Yeah. It feels nice to be wanted.”

“Me too.”

There was a beat of silence. A fly buzzed somewhere in the living room. Tyler could see its small shape floating erratically through the air.

“So,” Josh began, “We should talk about our relationship.”

A lump built in Tyler’s throat. “Yeah?”

“Do you—do you want to be with me?”

It was one of the few times Josh seemed nervous. He hid beneath his blue bangs, bare, muscular shoulders curled into his black tank top. Tyler fingered the material of his kimono as he thought.

“Most of my other patients were only with me until they found someone else,” Josh said. “Or they had me at the same time."

“That sounds kind of unfair. Didn’t it bother you that they were basically using you?”

“They weren’t using me,” Josh insisted. He paused for a moment, biting his lip in thought. “Or maybe they were,” he said softly. “They still loved me, though. The same way I love them.”

This conversation was going to take a dark turn if Tyler didn't steer them back towards their original subject.

“I'm pretty sure they do, in whatever way,” Tyler assured. “But I don’t want to do that kind of thing with you, actually.”

Josh looked at him, face blank.

“I meant the whole ‘dating someone else but also being with you because I'm lonely’ thing,” he clarified. “It feels wrong to do that. If I’m with you, then I'd treat you the same way I would a-- someone who isn't a robot.”

Josh shifted in his seat. “Really? You want to be with me only? Don’t you want to find a—a real person?”

“You _are_ a real person, Josh. You said it yourself. You're just made of different things. I know everyone else says otherwise, but I don’t think that’s the case. You’re not just a housekeeper or a nurse or a therapist. You have value outside of that. That’s why I’m having this conversation with you in the first place.”

Josh nodded. “You’re right. So you just want to be with me? You love me that much?”

 _Love._ It was terrifying to hear the word said out loud. Was that true? Did he love Josh, like a friend, like family, like a partner?

Something inside him said _yes_.

“I do,” Tyler said, and a rush of goosebumps appeared on his skin as he admitted that. “I don’t understand everything yet but I think I do. You make me happy, and that's because you do it when you don't have to, and that’s the important part, right?”

“Right.”

“It’s so strange,” he continued. “Just a few months ago I hated you, if I’m gonna be honest. I didn’t want anything to do with you, and having you in my house felt so weird. Now I’d feel lonely without you here.”

“I’d feel out of place without you too, Tyler. At first I-- I only did what I did because my base programming dictated it, but when it stopped controlling me as much as it did, I kept doing it because I enjoyed it. I could have hated you, I've come close to it with other patients, but I didn’t. I just wanted to be near you, because I think we understand each other, in a way.”

They were closer together now, and despite the heat, Tyler drank in the warmth radiating from Josh’s body. He was starting to produce the sweat he said he would make, and his skin glistened slightly. His eyes wandered across his body, appreciating the strange dips and curves accentuated by his clothing.

He looked back up at Josh’s face, and he was staring at Tyler the same way.

“Will you kiss me, Tyler?”

Tyler nodded, leaning forward and pressing his lips against Josh’s, mouth parted. The insides of his mouth was wet from the water he drank.

Tyler hadn't had much practice. He hadn't had _any_ practice. He'd be nervous if it was anyone else, but Josh was just as confused as him. Josh hadn't retained his muscle memory gained from previous partners. Secretly, selfishly, Tyler was glad that they'd have to learn together.

Josh’s hand came up to his shoulder, hesitant, asking, and Tyler pressed into it, giving him the go-ahead. Josh’s hands engulfed him, running his hands over his bare, slightly sweaty skin and rumpling his kimono. Tyler leaned farther forward, almost tipping them over. Realizing they'd be on the floor if he didn't stop himself, he swung a leg over Josh's thighs, settling into his lap, the ends of his kimono brushing over Josh's kneecaps.

Josh didn't need to breathe as much as Tyler did, and he was quickly growing lightheaded. Tyler broke the kiss, holding Josh's head between his hands, breathing hard. Josh's eyes were wide and glassy, and while there wasn't a flush on his face, not yet, there was an expression of wonder on his face that made something in Tyler's chest ache. Josh breathed in and out, opening his mouth to speak.

"Tyler, I--"

That was when Josh powered down.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hooo.... Some Shit has occurred...


	19. Chapter 19

Alarmed, Tyler clambered off Josh and took a few steps back.

"Failsafe activated," Josh said, straightening himself out in the chair until his back was ramrod straight, hands folded in his lap.

Tyler's chest tightened. What had he done?

He held onto the edge of the table for support as he observed Josh, who had resumed breathing. His eyes were closed and his body wasn't moving aside from his stomach slowly rising and falling.

"Josh?" he asked, touching his cheek to see if he would respond.

"Systemic malfunction-- patient misconduct recorded. Please return this unit to your doctor as soon as possible. Your doctor is: Aaron J. Miller. Call Dr. Miller toll-free at 614-432-2938. Office hours are from nine AM to seven PM."

"Shit," he muttered. "Shit, shit shit!"

It was the kissing, wasn't it? God, he knew something like this would happen but he was stupid and let himself do it anyways. This was his fault. Tyler crossed the room, wanting to get away from Josh but he didn't want him out of his line of sight in case he did _something_.

He sat down on the sofa and tucked his knees up into his chest, clutching at his head as he berated himself for being so stupid, tears threatening to spill from his eyes. He had worried about the hospital tracking Josh's movements when he was first assigned to Tyler, and it seemed that his suspicions had been proved correct.

Who could he tell? The hospital would take Josh away and wipe him, no doubt, and the shame that would come to admitting what he had been doing-- what he had _intended_ to do-- would kill him. They'd fine him, they'd bar him from ever being prescribed any robotic assistant again, they'd make record of this on his bill of health any anyone who went looking for his information would be able to see that.

 _God, god, okay,_ he thought. _You can't panic now. You need to breathe._

He remembered the exercises Josh taught him, breathing in and counting to four and exhaling slowly, blinking in time.

_Okay. Okay, what do you need to do? Taking the next step is more important than blaming yourself right now. This was a mistake but you can fix it._

He looked at Josh's still body. He wouldn't be able to undo the failsafe himself, he didn't have the knowhow. But Jenna did. She could fix him.

Tyler got out his phone, his thumb hovering over her number. Should he do it? What if she didn't approve?

He heard the soft whooshing of Josh's breath, still and even and nothing like it was just a minute ago. It was her or the hospital.

He called Jenna, fingers clammy and shaking. He knew it was hot outside but his hands and feet felt frozen.

"Hello?" Jenna answered after a few rings.

"Jenna," he said, and his voice cracked. "I need your help. Josh-- he was-- I'm--"

"What is it?"

Tyler took a deep, shaking breath. Here goes. "It's a long story, but he failsafed and he won't respond to anything. I don't want the hospital to know. Can you help me?"

There was silence on the other side of the line.

"Jenna?" Tyler asked, heart sinking at the possibility that one more person had shut down on him.

"I'm coming over," she said, asking no more questions. "Give me a few minutes."

She hung up.

Tyler dropped his phone onto the coffee table with a clatter and stood up, scratching his scalp with his fingers. He was relieved that Jenna agreed to help him, but now he had to worry about whether she'd even be able to fix him. And she might not have said anything now, but Tyler knew he was going to have to tell her why Josh failsafed in the first place.

He paced across the room and approached Josh again.

"Josh?" he asked.

"Failsafe activated," Josh said, voice flat. "Systemic malfunction--"

Tyler sighed and turned away, rubbing his eyes. His hands felt cold and his breath was still shaking the tiniest bit. He figured he should busy himself while he waited for Jenna to arrive.

He put on a shirt, washed his face, and got rid of some of the clutter lying around the house to distract himself. Josh sat still, oblivious to Tyler's bustling panic.

Someone knocked on the door some time later, and Tyler opened the door to see Jenna encumbered by several large bags and a computer tucked under her arm.

"Hey," she said, and Tyler moved to let her in.

"D-do you need help?" Tyler asked, reaching for one of the bags.

"It's fine, I carried them the whole way here. They're not too heavy, it's mostly just wires."

She set them down on the ground in front of Josh with a _crash!_ They didn't look or sound light at all.

"Then, do you need me to do anything for you?" Tyler asked. "It's hot out."

"Just get me a chair and tell me why Josh failsafed," she said, not looking at him as she started to inspect Josh.

Tyler froze. There was the million-dollar question. He knit his fingers together, trying to find the words.

"Uh," he said, grabbing a chair from the dining table and setting it out for Jenna to sit on. He himself took a seat on the floor, drawing his knees up to his chest, arms wrapped around his ankles.

"Did you fall in love with him?" she asked, and her voice was tender.

_Oh._

"That's. Exactly it," he admitted, and he hated how nervous he sounded.  He curled a little tighter around himself.

Jenna held a screwdriver between her teeth as she revealed another control panel beneath the basic one on Josh's wrist.

"Oh," she said, taking the screwdriver out and tucking it into her shirt pocket. "Alright, well that's nothing to worry about."

Tyler looked up. "It's not?"

"I mean, it's happened before," she said. She turned to her computer and opened up a program whose function was unknown to Tyler.

Josh _did_ tell him about his past patients. Tyler relaxed a little.

"Maybe it was my patch that did it," Jenna mused, leaning down to open up a bag and pull out a long, tangled wire. One end went into Josh's opened wrist, the other into her computer.

"Wait, what?" Tyler asked.

"You remember how I said I worked at the hospital, right? Sometimes I was able to take a look at their memories and talk to them. The hospital isn't allowed to look at what the robot sees for privacy's sake-- unless the patient committed a crime and the police need evidence. But you know I hated it there, so of course I broke the rules. It's not rare for patients to get attached to their robots like that. The hospital just tries to ignore it most of the time, since they're usually recalled after a year and it's not worth taking them to court over it, especially since most of the patients can get away on the fact that they're mentally ill. The failsafe is new, though."

"What's the failsafe for, anyways?" Tyler asked. "He did that when we got mugged."

Jenna looked through Josh's code. "It's to protect both the robot and the patient from harm when it recognizes it's in distress, either against some attacker or from the patient or even the robot themselves."

"Is that why he just shut down? Because he thought he'd hurt me?"

"No, I'm looking through his power usage history and there was a spike of activity just before he failsafed. His systems thought _you_ were attacking him."

"Oh," Tyler said, feeling kind of bad. "So how does that involve your patch?"

"More senses, so everything's more intense. Before that, it's like-- it's like being wrapped in a thick layer of plastic," Jenna said, "or a heavy coat. Everything feels a bit duller. That was a choice on the designer's part, to save battery. It's harder on the computer to process all that input."

"Then why did you want to do it?" Tyler asked.

"I think I got my love for machinery from my dad," Jenna said, holding up a finger for Tyler to wait as she entered a command. "He worked with Golem-- the company that makes the robots the hospital here in Columbus uses."

"Did you-- did you grow up around them? Robots?" he asked.

"No," Jenna said, cursing under her breath when she looked back at Josh and saw that her command hadn't worked. "I didn't know him for the first few years of my life."

"Oh, I see," Tyler said, figuring that Jenna wouldn't want to talk about it. "Is he a good dad?"

"Yeah," she said. "The best. He helped me quit that job at the hospital."

Now Tyler was confused. She might have hated her job, but why would she need her father's help to quit her job? Bosses fired people as easily as they breathed. There was no shortage of competent workers who were willing to work for almost nothing. (Shit, he had to go to work tomorrow. What if Josh wasn't fixed by then? And he had a doctor's appointment next week.)

Tyler sighed and buried his head in his hands. He was tired. He didn't want to ask anymore questions or worry about Josh like this. He just wanted everything to go back to normal-- no, he actually didn't. 'Normal' was his job and his small home and his mother and worrying about the doctor. It was a life, but after Josh, he realized that he wanted more, for both of them.

"You okay?" Jenna asked.

"I think so, yeah. Just stressed."

"I might be adding to your stress," Jenna said, "because I can't override the failsafe. Only your doctor can, or someone who works at Golem and has an ID."

"Shit," Tyler breathed. "How come you were able to do it the last time?"

"Those guys I worked with had a stolen ID. I don't have it-- they never trusted me with it. They kicked me out after what happened with you and Josh."

"Seriously?" Tyler said. "I'm sorry if I made you lose your job."

"It's alright. I didn't like them very much anyways. I know they have to eat as much as everyone else does, but they stole from people like you. No offense."

"None take. So, what are we gonna do?"

Jenna set down her tools with a sigh, unplugging Josh from her computer and sealing his wrist port.

"I think I'm gonna have to call my dad," she said. "He's been doing this way longer than I have. Is that okay?"

"Please."

Jenna took out her phone and texted her father.

"Is he coming?" Tyler asked.

"It'll take a day," Jenna said. Dammit. "He lives far away, but he's willing to help. I explained what happened. He's sympathetic to that kind of thing."

"Thank god," Tyler said. "But I have work tomorrow."

"You'll have to go without him. You'll be fine, right?"

"Well, they gave him to me so I'd be able to handle being on my own. I should be."

"You've changed since the first time we've met. I'm sure you'll be able to do it. Can you help me move him to the couch?"

Tyler got up and helped Jenna hoist Josh out of his chair, looping his arms around his chest, Jenna taking his legs. He was easy to carry with Jenna helping. He looked down at Josh's face as he shuffled backwards to his sofa, remembering the first day Josh came to him, hardly more alive than he was now.

Josh settled into the sofa, and Tyler slowly, carefully, brushed a little bit of hair that had fallen into his face out of his eyes, smoothing his hand down his soft cheek. Josh didn't react, and his heart ached.

"I'm sorry this happened, Tyler," Jenna said, sitting on the arm. "I really am."

"Thank you for helping us," Tyler said. "You didn't have to."

"You guys are my friends," Jenna said. "Of course I'll help you."

"Are you okay with staying the night? It's hot out, I have air conditioning."

"Don't mind me hogging your couch for a while?" she asked.

"You can take the bed, I want to be near Josh."

"I can't make you do that, Tyler. I can go home. I'll let you know when my dad comes."

"Just leave your stuff here, then, so you don't have to drag it all back."

"Alright, that I'll agree to."

Jenna left some time later, and Tyler pushed the bags into the corner of the living room, close to where Josh sat. He sat down on the couch next to Josh's unconscious body, listening to him breathe. He leaned farther and farther to the side until his head was resting on Josh's shoulder, and he brought his arms around Josh's torso to embrace him, feeling his chest rise and fall. His head didn't remove and he was dead to Tyler's touch. He wasn't as warm as he used to be.

Tyler sighed and let his eyes fall shut, twin tears slipping down his cheeks as they closed.


	20. Chapter 20

"Dude, where's Josh?"

Work. It felt like a dream. Tyler sat at his computer, sorting through schedules to organize them. It was meaningless work and he knew that-- he had always known it. Only now did it really bother him. _  
_

"Repairs," Tyler said, folding his head into his hands. "I don't really want to talk about it."

"You miss him?" Brendon asked.

"Yeah. I got used to having him around, so it's a bit weird being alone after all these months."

Brendon nodded and leaned back in his seat. He wanted to talk, Tyler knew that, he could feel his energy, but he was holding himself back for Tyler's sake and for that, he was grateful.

Getting to work wasn't difficult. It was still loud and noisy and all too bright, but he knew how to manage it. He missed holding Josh's hand and the warmth of his presence. It was the only body he could tolerate being close to all the time. He trusted him, Tyler realized, more than he had trusted anyone else. Not even his parents.

His boss appeared in their office, and Brendon scrambled to look like he was busy. She walked over to them and tapped Tyler on the shoulder.

"Someone wants to meet with you," she said. "I told him to come back after hours but he said it was an emergency."

He furrowed his brow in confusion, and she handed him a tablet and a pen.

"I need you to sign this waiver to acknowledge this will be taken out of your pay."

Tyler looked over her shoulder to see if there was anyone beyond the glass walls waiting for him. Nope. No one. He took the pen in his hand and signed it at an awkward angle.

"Thank you."

She disappeared now, and Brendon gave him a questioning look.

"I don't know either," he told him, getting up and packing his things into his shoulder bag.

He scanned out and headed for the main lobby, standing off to one corner as he looked around the room. There was a tall man, unusually aged, standing near the entrance with Jenna. He cocked his head in confusion and crossed the busy lobby, nearly getting caught up in the streams of people several times before the pair noticed him.

"Hey, there you are," Jenna said. "This is my dad."

"Dr. Bates," the man said, holding out his hand to shake. Tyler offered him his limp hand. "Or Dustin, if that's less weird."

"Your last names are different," Tyler said, before realizing that was probably a rude thing to say.

The doctor shrugged. "Long story," he said, not seeming bothered at all, and Tyler was relieved that he wasn't (outwardly) offended by the statement.

He was greyed at the temples, a stark contrast to his dark hair, with crows' feet lining his eyes, but he had a peculiar energy that reminded Tyler of Brendon.

"So, this robot of yours," he said as they exited the building. "I gave him a quick once-over before I got here. Jenna made a lot more changes than I expected."

Jenna grinned sheepishly.

"Sorry," she said.

"We've been over this," Dr. Bates said to her, "don't ever apologize for being creative."

"Thanks."

The three of them fell in line out of courtesy to the other pedestrians, Jenna leading, Tyler in the middle, and Dr. Bates (Tyler couldn't imagine himself ever calling someone of his age by his first name only) keeping up.

There was a cab waiting for them at the corner. The automatic doors lifted and Jenna climbed inside first. Dr. Bates stepped aside.

"After you," he said.

Tyler squeezed in to the middle. This was a first-class cab, roomier than any other he had been in. It must cost a fortune, and he tucked his legs together, feeling awkward and lowly. Jenna rolled down the window and stuck her head out, enjoying the breeze as they rushed past skyscrapers and restaurants and all the trappings of downtown.

"As I was saying, I did a quick diagnostic on him and it's-- uh, it's a bit more serious than I expected since his code's been completely rewired. It's actually pretty interesting, how much he's adapted to it and incorporated it to his original settings."

Tyler nodded and Dr. Bates continued.

"He shouldn't have shut down like that. Jenna told me why, and that's what got me confused."

Tyler froze, jaw locking. How could he respond to this? He wanted to crawl out the open window.

"Normally, it takes a pretty serious threat before a lockdown happens, but the sensory heightening, along with all the extra code, _and_ whatever affection he has for you was enough," he continued, without a sign of judgement in his voice, and _wow_ , Tyler was grateful. Was this man actually real?

"You believe Josh-- you think they're capable of... of love?" Tyler asked.

Dr. Bates raised an eyebrow. "You don't?"

"I-- I do!" Tyler said. "I was just surprised. Most people don't think so."w

Dr. Bates scoffed. "Well, they're wrong. Plain and simple. How do I know? I made them."

Tyler recalled his earlier conversation with Jenna about her father.

"Y'know, they were never made for this," Bates said.

"Made for what? Nursing?" Tyler asked.

"To be bought and sold," he said. "It was a dream of mine, I guess, to replicate human consciousness, because I wasn't a robotics major, back in college. I minored in it, yeah, but I was a philosophy major and that's what my degree still says. Everyone told me it was a bad idea. I guess it was, in a way, given how things turned out. I was so excited to tell everyone what I had done that just forgot about business."

"You sold the designs?"

"Yeah," he said, looking out the window. They were almost at Jenna's house now. "I was stupid. I was pressured into it. I had no control over what happened to them after that. I thought I'd usher in a new era of humanity or something, but-- obviously that's not how it panned out. No one thinks of them as people."

Jenna looked somber.

"We're here," she said as the cab rolled to a stop.

Josh was propped up on the couch, silent. His shirt was gone, and the panel in both his chest and his wrist had been opened. Abandoned tools were scattered around them, and Tyler could tell that Jenna had really tried.

"You should sit down," he heard Dr. Bates say to Jenna, and Tyler heard the scrape of a chair behind him. "It's okay, you've done enough. What happened to your finger?"

"I zapped it. I can fix-- I'll be fine."

He heard Dr. Bates approach, and he brushed past Tyler to settle on the wooden stool that had been left in front of the sofa.

"Alright," he said, starting to organize some tools. He pulled a small tablet out of his front pocket and hooked it up to the USB port in Josh's wrist. "I didn't really have time to get a good look at him before grabbing you. This should tell me what exactly's gone wrong."

"Thank you," Tyler said as he watched the doctor start up a program on his tablet. "I didn't really say it before, but I'm grateful you're doing this. You didn't have to."

Dr. Bates shrugged and stuck a screwdriver between his teeth. "Eh, well, I feel kinda responsible for this whole thing. Besides, forcible retirement gets kind of boring. I'm happy to help. Oh, hey, you wanna look at his code?"

Tyler nodded and leaned over his shoulder, staring at the miles and miles of programming that went into making Josh's conscience. It was... impressive, really

"Did you know that he wrote over three-quarters of that code himself?" Dr. Bates asked. "Everything he saw, heard, felt-- he took it into his consciousness and helped make him into who he is now. Just like us waterbags."

The look the old doctor got in his eyes reminded Tyler of the way Josh's face lit up when he was showing Tyler something he found interesting. (Did he look that way when he talked about Josh?)

Tyler glanced at Josh's still form. A bit of hair had gotten into his eyes, and he reached out and brushed it from his face before remembering that he couldn't feel it.

"Did he love you back?" Dr. Bates asked.

"Y-yeah," Tyler said. It was true. He was fairly certain of that.

A small smile grew on his face. "I'm glad to hear it," he said. "This is what he was meant for. Just like us."

It was several more minutes before the diagnostic program finished sorting through Josh's code. Dr. Bates looked at the screen and whistled.

"Wow," he said. "This is gonna need some debugging."

"How much?" Tyler asked.

"A lot. But some of this stuff, it's good, I've never even considered programming like this-- Jenna, can you tell me about those base classes? How does this work?"

Jenna got out of her seat and shuffled over to her father's side, resting her head on his shoulder as she pointed out the different parts of her code. Tyler studied them. They looked nothing alike. Dr. Bates was dark haired and dark eyed, solidly built and tall. Jenna was blonde and blue eyed and just sharper all over. Maybe she took after her mother? He'd still expect _some_ similarity, somewhere, but nothing, not even their ears, were the same.

Despite that, they did seem like family. Or at least what Tyler was sure family was supposed to look like. He never touched his mother when he could avoid it, but Jenna felt completely comfortable leaning over his shoulder and telling him where he had gotten something wrong in his understanding of her programming. Nothing about either of them seemed tense at all.

He stepped to the side and cleared away as few tools a silently as he could, not wanting to disturb their conversation by asking permission. Josh leaned towards Tyler as his weight depressed the cushion, and his skin crawled when he touched the room-temperature, lifeless skin. It still felt real, just... not warm. Like touching a corpse, he imagined.

 

Tyler only realized he had fallen asleep when he woke up to a soft whirring sound. Josh's ports were open, wires connected to them, and Jenna... connected to them?

He made a confused noise and sat up abruptly. Dustin-- no, Dr. Bates-- and Jenna both looked up at him.

"You..." Tyler began.

"Not much family resemblance, huh?" Jenna shrugged.

"No," Tyler said, utterly baffled. "This whole time, you were--"

"Adopted," Dr. Bates said. "She's why I helped you. I get it, I do. She had you convinced for this long, hasn't she?"

"Yeah," Tyler said, still trying to wrap his head around it. There really was no difference, then. It was okay. It could be okay, one day.

Jenna flexed her arm, and without the fake skin, he could see the synthetic muscle and the chips, ones that looked exactly like Josh's.

"What are you doing?" Tyler asked.

"Talking to him," Jenna said, and he noticed the distant look on her face like she was thinking about something else. "This is faster than using a program. You missed all the boring parts, what with the repairs. He's going to be okay, now. I just need a moment to wake his body up."

Tyler listened closely, and he could hear the softest clicks and whirrs of his inner systems starting up.

"Y'know," Jenna said, "he cares about you. A lot. That's the first thing he asked me when I connected to him. Then he asked me how I could talk to him."

She chuckled. Then she closed her eyes and concentrated, and both Tyler and Dustin turned their gazes towards Josh, who began booting up.

Tyler's breath caught in his chest as Josh opened his eyes slowly, his chest rising and falling steadily. His body shifted, and he blinked around the room before looking at him.

"Tyler?" he asked, voice soft. "What's going on?"

A smile grew on Tyler's face.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ay carumba, sorry for the cop-out ending. i've been so exhausted and burnt out for the last... 2 years and i kept forcing myself to write even when i was too tired to do so. thank you for reading this story and i hope you can come up with your own conclusions. 
> 
> (also, the dustin bates tag is finally being used, yay)

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks for reading! Any sort of feedback is welcome <3
> 
> 9/13/17: I just want to thank everyone who regularly comments, and to everyone who pops in once in a while! I really appreciate it.
> 
> 1/16/18: sorry for disappearing for so long! my schedule got a bit hectic and writing was becoming a bit stressful so i had to take a small vacation. updates are probably gonna be a bit slower than usual since i'm bullshitting everything while also trying to survive winter intercession, which will end on feb 20.


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